Sonnets in the Dark
by SeattleWhovian
Summary: C,M ship. Potter's at Battalion Aide, Winchester is in charge, a covert Chinese unit is thought to be in the area, blackouts are needed, Sidney and Flagg stop by...it's gonna be an interesting 3 days. Final chapter M. Please R&R, thanks!
1. Chapter 1

(Reposting this under my new, correct account. Will be deleting the original one shortly. Hope you're a C/M 'shipper.)

Chapter One: Battalion Aide

Potter waited impatiently for the rest of his senior staff to arrive for their daily morning meeting.

"Klinger, where are Pierce and Hunnicutt?"

"If last night at Rosie's was any indication, sir, they're probably in the Swamp unconscious."

"Winchester?"

Charles feigned indignation and surprise. "How would I know where those two cretins are? Last I saw, they were heaped on their bunks like last week's dirty laundry. In fact, I think they WERE last week's dirty laundry!"

Margaret smiled. "They staggered back to the Swamp this morning after Rosie finally managed to chase them out with her broom! I heard them when I was in Post-op."

Potter harrumphed, clearing his throat. "If those two can't be here for this morning's meeting, then they have no right to raise an objection. So I'll tell you two Majors."

Charles and Margaret waited expectantly.

Potter glared at them both, daring them to change his mind. "I'm going to Battalion Aide for three days, for our monthly rotation. Winchester, you're in charge."

Margaret was furious. SHE had seniority over Winchester, yet HE would be in charge? One more sign that although she was of an impressive rank, it was still This Man's Army. And she knew that unlike with Frank, when he was "in command," she could not rule the unit through Charles. Dammit, she thought.

"COLONEL! You CAN'T go to the Aide Station, you're...you're..." she faltered.

Potter got very quiet, with a dangerous look in his eye. "Yes, Major?" He was daring her to say it..."You're TOO OLD, sir!"

Margaret wasn't that stupid. And she knew Potter wasn't stupid either, nor careless, nor frightened. He'd been in the Army since before she was born and knew the danger of a warzone. She also knew that he was a caring and excellent physician and would go where he was needed to help others.

She settled back next to Charles, resolved to the inevitable. "Nothing, Colonel."

Potter would be gone, WINCHESTER would be in charge, and she'd be Head Nurse. As usual. She pondered on what she'd thought of before: that she couldn't sway Charles when he was in command, as she could Frank Burns. For some reason, that appealed to her, the fact that she could NOT do so.

The authority Margaret had in camp was not unremarkable, by any stretch. She was completely in charge of the nursing staff, and Potter only very rarely put in his two cents' worth. Hawkeye, as Chief Surgeon, had long ago learned not to interfere with her and her staff. Why fiddle with what's working perfectly well? The doctors in the camp at least gave her that: they knew she had the best nursing staff in all of Korea.

She turned her glare on Winchester, who was grinning in anticipation. This was going to be FUN to break the news to his Swamprat roomies. He'd been in command before, of course, but his command style tended to be similar to Potter's: Just let the good men and women of the camp do their usual routines, and be there if a command decision was needed. Charles didn't turn into a tyrant as Hawkeye had the couple of times it was their misfortune to have him in command. Bad enough he's Chief Surgeon, Charles thought, let alone running the camp!

When Charles first took over, as Second-in-Command, the rest of the camp was on edge, not knowing him very well but knowing he tended to be condescending and snooty. His easy command routine had surprised them. He likened it to dealing with the help: Let them do their thing, and interfere when needed. Of course, he didn't feel the need to tell the MASH personnel that that was where he got his command attitude and style! He was fairly sure they wouldn't want to be refered to as "the help."

Potter wrapped up the small meeting and dismissed the two Majors to begin their morning routine in charge.

"Klinger, come get my stuff in my quarters. You're driving."

"Yes, sir," he said as the two went off.

Charles remained seated, Margaret next to him. The glint in his eye was still there, as he pondered the most rewarding way to break this to Hunnicutt and, most importantly, to Pierce.

Margaret watched him thinking, a slow grin spreading onto his face.

"What, Major?"

Charles started out of his reverie. "Oh, Margaret, I was pondering the best way to tell those bores that I am in command during the Colonel's absence. 'Best' as in 'most entertaining to me,' and to you as well if you would like to join in on this!"

She laughed. She loved when Charles got devious, it was always so brilliantly executed.

"Sure, count me in, what should I do?"

He peered through the netting of the Mess tent, as he saw Klinger load the Colonel's gear in the jeep, the two men climb in and drive off.

He leaned over to tell her what she should do.

Hawkeye and BJ were stunned out of sleep by Margaret kicking their bunks. Hard.

"Up and at 'em you lazy slobs," she yelled, like they were in boot camp again. "The CO wants you in his office NOW! You two clowns missed the morning staff meeting, and he has something to tell you!"

They both groaned as they reached for the overshirts and pants they'd managed to throw off in the early morning hour, before they slumped into their bunks.

"What's he want? Are there major casualties expected?" Hawkeye asked.

"'Major' casualties?" She thought about how apropos that innocent question was. "I'd say that's a very good possibility!"

They were standing upright within minutes, dressed (if you could call it that) and followed Margaret to the CO's office. She pulled ahead of them slightly, and burst in through the inner door.

"Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt, sir."

Hawkeye and BJ were wondering why all the formality when they walked into the CO's office.

"So? Where's the Colonel? I thought he needed to see us."

Margaret laughed while Charles remained seated, leaning back in Potter's chair, grinning at the two Captains.

They looked at her, wondering what was so humorous.

"Pierce, I said 'The CO' wanted you in his office. I didn't say 'Colonel Potter'!"

The two looked at Winchester, who was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

"Oh, gawd, NO!" Hawkeye whailed, "YOU'RE the CO?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two. Colonel Flagg.

Winchester couldn't help but grin at his roommates' expressions.

"Oh, come, Pierce, it's not the end of the world. Not like I rule with an iron fist like SOMEONE in here has been known to do in the past!"

"Margaret does not command like that, Charles," Hawkeye said as he eyeballed the Colonel's very locked and very secured liquor cabinet.

"I wasn't refering to Major Houlihan, Pierce," he smiled, grinning at Margaret.

"BJ's never been in charge."

"That is true, and I'll think about how extraordinarily wonderful that datum is later, but I meant YOU."

BJ sat on Sophie's saddle, kicking his feet up. "Hey, why is that? When do I get to command?"

"Never." the other three piped in together.

"Oh. Wheeeee! I never get to do this when the Colonel's here."

Margaret rolled her eyes and said in an aside to Charles, "And he wonders why he's never been in command."

"BJ, you play on Sophie's saddle all the time. Potter doesn't mind, or you'd be dead by now. He knows it's the closest you'll ever come to actually riding a horse," Hawkeye pointed out.

BJ lifted his long legs and big feet over the saddle and stood next to Hawkeye.

"So, oh mighty Commanding Officer and his lovely consort, what may we expect during your reign?" BJ asked, genuflecting to Charles.

"The usual. Nothing. Do what you normally do, and let me be. I am certain when Klinger returns he will have the usual mountain of paperwork for me to sign, that Potter conveniently forgot to get done before he decided to abandon us for three days." He looked behind him to where Houlihan was standing, near his left shoulder. "Margaret?"

She'd blushed when BJ called her Charles' 'lovely consort.' She was suddenly conscious of Winchester's close proximity. She blushed even deeper.

"Oh, oh, Major, the usual routine for my staff, of course. Their schedules for the week were already submitted to the Colonel for review."

"Very good, as always, Major. Excellent nursing staff here, that is one of the few things I did not have to complain about when I was assigned here."

Hawkeye and BJ looked at each other, shocked.

Hawkeye asked BJ, "A compliment? From CHARLES?"

"He has to throw his minions a bone on occasion to keep them...us...happy."

"True, true."

Charles finally sat upright, abandoning his reclined and relaxed position. He waved at them in dismissal. "Begone, minions, so I can see what the Colonel left me. Who's got Post-op this morning?"

BJ said, "That would be Margaret and me."

"Very well. You're dismissed, Captains."

The two men laughed, amused by Charles' light-hearted attempt at sounding "official." He was only a Major, not a Captain, merely because he'd signed up for the Army, not been drafted. He had been assured a cushy position at Tokyo General, and figured being a war-time Veteran would look good on his CV. Little did he realize at the time that the petty grievance of a Colonel in Tokyo would land him in the middle of the warzone!

"C'mon, Beej, let's see if there's any swill left in the coffee pot. I could use an IV of it right now."

Charles sighed as the swinging doors settled down, after the Captains' retreat.

"Imbeciles."

"I gave up long ago any attempt at regular Army discipline and respect from Hawkeye, and it didn't take him long to break BJ of it either. Believe it or not, when BJ first got here, he was quite respectful and actually followed orders. Well, orders as in Major to Captain, not Nurse to Doctor!"

She was babbling and she knew it. She couldn't figure out why standing near Charles was disturbing her. It reminded her of the time he read to her, by candlelight, "The Rooster Crowed at Midnight," in her quarters. Maybe it was seeing him in command, and doing a good job of it.

He swiveled the chair to face her more directly. Sitting down, he could look her almost eye to eye, he was so much taller than she. "I'm not so worried about regular Army as you are, Margaret, they just get tiresome at times."

He's got the most lively and expressive eyes, she thought absently. They sparkled with inner humor right now, betraying his outward demeanor and words. She knew that as much as he complained about his bunk mates, he secretly liked them and would have found life at the 4077th and in the Swamp boring without the two other doctors.

She shook herself from the mesmerizing gaze. The look in his eyes went from amusement to confusion, wondering why she was staring at him so.

"Margaret?"

She smiled inside. She loved how he said her name, in his sophisticated (to her) Bostonian accent. "Charles, I..."

A ruckus in the outer office broke her train of thought. The door swung open, and there was Colonel Flagg, looking suspiciously around as usual.

He glared at the two Majors. "Am I interrupting something, um...personal? Where's Potter? What're you doing in his office playing moon-eyed calves at one another?"

"No, he's gone to Battalion Aide for his three-day rotation as surgeon, and we were doing no such thing," Charles said simply. This man never failed to amuse him. This ought to be interesting, as always, with the Colonel here.

Flagg looked at Margaret for the longest time, making her fidget, then at Charles. "What is it with you, Major? First Burns, now him?"

"WHAT?" she exclaimed. "I don't have the FAINTEST idea of what you're talking about, Colonel!"

Flagg smirked. "Yeah, right." He flopped a file onto the desk. "That's for you, then, as CO. Intel says there's a Chinese unit operating covertly in the area. That's what you need to do."

Margaret's hand reached for the file, and Flagg yanked the closed file away. "That's for the COMMANDING OFFICER, Major, not the Head Nurse!"

Margaret pulled her hand back as if she'd been shocked. Her blue eyes sparked in anger at this man she USED to think she found attractive in some way. Not any more, after she'd got to know him. He was an idiot, she'd realized, for all his rank and physical prowess. Too stupid for words. How he'd made Colonel was beyond her understanding.

"Yes, COLONEL, and as Head Nurse, it is my duty to be sure my girls are safe. If there's something in there to help me assure their safety, I have every right to look. As you well know."

Flagg stared at her again for a moment, and her posture and attitude remained firm and unswayable. Good, she's not backing down, he thought. "Very well, Major. Winchester, you two go over it together. I'm...I'm going to be around. Don't look for me, but I'll be in and around the camp and compound. Note those blackout requirements. Midnight to 0600."

Charles flipped through the file in shock. "Colonel! That is QUITE unacceptable! We are a hospital, we cannot close the doors at midnight and say 'Come back in six hours!'"

"This covert unit is known to do most of their operations and subterfuge during the hours before daybreak. If you do NOT follow the blackouts, you may not have a hospital to have open 24 hours in a day! Now, get some enlisted personnel and some canvas, tarps, whatever, and start blocking the windows in your OR, pre-op and post-op wards. You're probably familiar with the blackout routines of WWII, after all. It's outlined in there as well."

And with that, he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three. That First Gentle Kiss

Flagg's exit was as abrupt as his entrance. He rarely left a room unflustered by his presence.

"That man is a wonder," Charles said. "So much walking fertilizer I have never seen."

He picked up the file Flagg had left. Didn't take long for something to be dumped on him, did it?

He pulled up closer to the desk so he could read over the entire file. He was hovering over it so much that Margaret had to lean in very close so she could read it too. Charles stopped reading when he felt her breath on his neck, near his ear. He didn't want to move, even to turn the page. He maintained the pretense that he was still reading, pretending to be fascinated by the information and directions on what they had to do.

They remained like that for several minutes, not changing to the next page. Surely Margaret's had the chance to read both pages by now! Charles thought. Why isn't she asking me to change the page?

He turned to look over his shoulder once more, almost nose-to-nose with her. "Did you need me to turn the page, Margaret?" he asked softly.

She smiled at him, leaning so closely over his back and shoulder that she was almost, but not quite, touching him. She has the most beautiful smile, he thought.

"Yes, I'm ready."

"Ready?"

"The next page, Charles."

"Oh, yes, of course." He turned to the next section of the file. They resumed their previous position. He was trying to focus on the words, but they meant nothing. All he could sense and feel was her gentle breath on his ear, his neck. Her body was so very close to his own, not actually touching, but his nerves and skin tingled all over where she was near, like their auras were mingling.

Charles and Margaret finished reading, or reading AT, the page and both reached to turn the page simultaneously, their hands touching.

Margaret's first instinct was to pull back, but she found she could not. Her hand rested on the back of his strong, sensitive hand. She was happy to leave it there, not moving it. He's such an amazing surgeon, she thought. She had to laugh inside about it, because he KNEW he was an amazing surgeon, made no bones about it. He's got the right to boast, she thought. She had seen him work often enough to know his boast was not blowing hot air.

She liked being the nurse at his table. He, like the other doctors, gave the nurses more reign and license during surgery than they'd have in the States. She especially liked when he trusted her to close for him. Such a request from a brilliant surgeon was a testament to HER skills as well, because he trusted her with something so important.

Charles froze. He stared at her hand resting so comfortably on his own. Not moving, only sitting there, content. He waited for this magical second to end, as they always did when he and Margaret accidentally brushed along one another, or found one another standing in close proximity outside of the surgical theater. She didn't seem to be in any hurry to move it.

Seeing she was not going to snatch her hand back from their simultaneous reach, Charles lifted his hand, hers still resting on top, to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand, very slowly and very gently, then set his hand back down on the file.

Oh my God, did that just happen? Margaret wondered. She didn't realize Charles was wondering the exact same thing.

He turned slightly in his chair to face her again, almost nose-to-nose as before. "Margaret, I need your help with this."

"Help?"

"Yes, organizing this. If you could forego Post-op this morning, I could use your expert knowledge in organizing what Flagg said we need to do. I am afraid I don't have the talent for such an effort. Besides, I think the enlisted personnel are more likely to listen to you." He smiled at her, his eyes sparkling. "I do believe you scare them, Major!"

"That's always been my intention, Major."

So they weren't going to mention the kiss that had just happened. Maybe it's as well they did not. It was a sweet, passing memory to cherish, that was all.

Margaret took the checklist that had been included in the folder and went to the office door. "I'll get started right away, Charles."

"Thank you, Margaret."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four. Countdown to Midnight.

Later that morning, Charles took a tour of Pre-op and Post-op. Fortunately, the OR was not in use. Margaret had had her work detail get Pre-op fixed up first, covering all of the windows with tarp she'd scrounged from the Supply room. Her logic had been that, if necessary, they could temporarily put patients in there while working on Post-op.

The patients in Post-op, only five now, were moved to one wall while the windows of the other were being covered by four men. Margaret leaned back at the desk to watch their industry. Nurse Kellye had volunteered for Post-op duty that morning, and was making the rounds to check the patients.

She looked up as Charles came in. "Good morning, Doctor."

"Good morning, Lieutenant," he said, smiling as he walked by. If there was a patient needing attention, he was sure she'd mention it, and she did not, so he continued to where Margaret was watching.

Charles sat on the desk next to Margaret and watched as well for a few moments. Their shoulders were touching, but neither acknowledged that fact or acted as if anything unusual had happened earlier. They were comfortable together, watching as the heavy canvas was lifted and secured over the windows.

"I just went through Pre-op and the OR. Your detail's done an excellent job, Major. Very tidy."

"Yes, they've done it all efficiently." She spoke up so the men could hear. "Good job, men, this last room should do it. We'll post for everyone to see that they need to maintain their own blackout conditions beginning at midnight."

The oldest man in the work detail, a Sargeant, turned and smiled at the two Majors. "Yes, ma'am, and thank you."

It didn't take long for the men to finish. Once they had, they turned to Nurse Kellye, who directed them in helping to relocate the patients to their original locations in the big room. That, as well, was quickly done, and the men were dismissed.

BJ returned to Post-op with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. "Came to inspect their handiwork, Charles?"

"I merely wanted to see how it was progressing. Flagg was clear in his report what needed to be done. Between midnight and 0600, the camp is dark. Completely. Fortunately, it is not too hot to require opened windows, nor too cool to require wood stoves."

"That's gonna put a crimp on the weekly poker game," BJ replied. He checked his watch. "Sidney's probably already made plans to get here tonight. I'll see if Klinger can reach him to tell him the game's off for a week, until Flagg says it's all clear."

"Obviously no game tonight, unless you have eyes like a cat? No? Oh well." Charles stood and turned toward the doors leading to the CO's office. "I will ask Klinger to notify Dr. Freeman, if he can. Carry on, Hunnicutt." He turned to Houlihan. "Margaret."

BJ watched him leave, then turned to tend to the patients who'd been moved. He followed behind Nurse Kellye, reading each chart she'd updated in her own rounds. All was well.

Margaret reached behind her, without looking, and picked up the duty roster she knew would be there. BJ was on from 0800 to 1600, Pierce from 1600 to Midnight, and Winchester from Midnight to 0800. Her name was down for the same shift as Winchester. During the blackout. This should be interesting, she thought. I hope he doesn't think I arranged to work the same shift, she realized. Naw, that's silly. The duty roster has been out for a few days, as they are released each week as the Colonel rotated the shifts.

The two Majors just happened to be assigned the night-time shift, that's all. And it certainly would not be dark in HERE, that was the whole point in covering the windows and doors so completely. Flagg couldn't expect them to keep a hospital and ward in the dark for six hours!

She followed in Charles' tracks to the CO's office. Charles and Klinger were there, discussing what else had to be done.

"If you could type that up, Max, and post it on the boards outside, that should be sufficient. We'll make an announcement around sunset to remind everyone what is necessary for the next few days, until we hear otherwise from Colonel Flagg."

"Yes, Major, I'll get right to it. Your work is on the desk in there," he said, pointing to the office doors. Charles could see the mound of papers on the Colonel's desk and dreaded going in there.

"How is a surgeon supposed to operate if his hands are twisted and worn out from signing inane documents that fuel the United States Army so inefficiently?"

"You know the Army, Major, if it wasn't for paperwork, the whole thing would collapse."

Charles noted Margaret's entrance and smiled.

She, too, looked through the window and saw the paperwork. "Maybe I can help you with some of it, Charles?"

"That would be most helpful, yes. Klinger, are those papers in any particular order, or your usual fashion of being thrown haphazardly together?"

"Yeah, that second way. Hap-whatever. Have fun, Major." He turned to his typewriter, preparing the bulletin notice for the blackout.

Winchester and Houlihan returned to the CO's office. Margaret pulled a chair up alongside Charles, and grabbed a handful of papers to begin sorting. Their hands would occasionally reach for the same stack of paper and touch, almost feeling as a spark passed between them.

To all outward appearances, the situation seemed totally normal: the acting CO and the Head Nurse taking care of paperwork. Klinger peeked in every so often as he went about his daily tasks in the outer office and his keen eye didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

Margaret and Charles did not acknowledge anything unusual was happening either, but internally, they were giddy and flustered by one another's close proximity. It didn't take long to finish their task, being so familiar with the different types of documents.

Charles leaned back and stretched, limbering up his right hand for all the signatures he'd have to do now. Too bad Margaret couldn't help with THAT!

She handed him a pen for one hand, and the stamp for the other, and smiled. "Have fun, Charles."

She got up to leave, her task completed. She turned just before she went through the doors. "Oh, Charles, you and I are both on tonight, Midnight to 0800."

And with that, she smiled sweetly at him, her head angled so Klinger could not see it, and left.

His heart jumped at that bit of news, startling him. What was going ON here, he wondered. First this morning, now that smile? Of anticipation? Glee? He and Margaret had worked together for many months now, what's suddenly changed that?

He, of course, knew those few special seconds and moments that had passed between Margaret and himself over the months. Reading by candlelight in her quarters. Standing so close to her while he looked for a speck of matter in her eye, the Father "catching" them in such an intimate pose. Her seeming obsession with him when she maintained (to this very day) that he'd touched his nose in surgery.

The defining moment was when he'd revealed to her, and indeed the entire camp, that he considered her friendship more important than a transfer to Tokyo, and told Colonel Potter that Baldwin was lying through his teeth in his accusation about Margaret. Margaret, Pierce and Hunnicutt had seen a side of him he'd tried to conceal by maintaining his seemingly haughty and distant attitude in this hell-hole.

He wondered if those moments had registered in her mind as well, and the almost-but-not-quite flirting that they often engaged in when working together. It was not unusual in a Doctor-Nurse relationship, after all; everyone did it, especially in a place like this, when a little distraction is most welcomed. Nobody had ever thought it untoward, and no rumors had started from people misinterpreting their camaraderie when they were both on duty.

Being of the same rank, Charles and Margaret did not play coy games with one another and were always blunt and honest with one another. If she was angry at him, she let him know it, and vice versa. Only when they were in their roles as Doctor and Nurse did they maintain the professionalism, Margaret usually defering to him as the physician.

He checked his watch, suddenly anxious for Midnight to arrive. That's when the blackout had to begin, so they would be stuck together in the sealed-off hospital and ward. This office was a part of the main building of the 4077th.

He pondered personalizing the office somewhat, if even for a few days, and wondered if that would appear contrived to Margaret. She wouldn't think it unusual for him to bring in some favorite poetry books, his phonograph and records, would she? And some victuals that Mother and Father had sent, as something to snack on while he went about his daily tasks as acting CO? No, of course not, she knew he loved his music and his poetry, after all. If listening to Chopin, Vivaldi or Ravel made his day more enjoyable, she wouldn't think anything of it.

He went to the outer office. "Klinger, come with me to the Swamp. If I am going to be stuck here for the next few days, I want something to listen to besides your incessant typing, and something to read when I have a chance for a break."

Klinger took the paper out of the typewriter. "Yes, your Major-ship. Here's the bulletin."

Charles took his pen out of his pocket, prepared to correct all the typographic errors. When he was done, he handed it back to Klinger. "Here, you can fix it when we get back."

"Darn, I thought I had it perfect this time. Someday, I'll be able to write something and you won't find any mistakes!"

"I seriously doubt that day will come, Max, unless they invent a spelling checker for typewriters!"

From the mess tent, Margaret saw Charles and Klinger trundling back to the Colonel's office, books, records, phonograph and food basket in hand. Hmmmm, she thought. Looks like a regular picnic being set up in there! She smiled behind her coffee cup as she took a sip. Nothing unusual, is there, Margaret? He wants to listen to his music and read his poetry books, while snacking on his monogrammed caviar and sipping his fine Courvoisier cognac.

She would report to duty just before Midnight, nothing unusual, with maybe a tiny dash of her very favorite perfume, Chanel No. 5. She used it only sparingly because the pure perfume was outrageously expensive, but it was such a wonderful fragrance, it would be worth a tiny little dab behind each ear. Very tiny. She didn't want to be TOO obvious, after all!

She was so lost in thought about the coming evening, she jumped when Hawkeye slipped onto the bench opposite her.

"Penny for your thoughts, Margaret!"

"Here's a freebie: Go away."

He looked in the direction she'd been gazing, toward Colonel Potter's office. "What's so fascinating?"

"I was watching Winchester and Klinger carrying some stuff from the Swamp. He looks like he's setting up housekeeping in the Colonel's office. Had his phonograph and records with him."

"Good, saves BJ and me from having to hear it."

"So you're on until Midnight, when the blackout begins."

He sighed. "Yes, I guess BJ and I will have to forego Rosie's for a few nights. At least I will."

"I think you two are persona non-grata at Rosie's right now, Pierce, after she had to chase you two out with a broom last night!"

"Wow, is THAT what happened? I couldn't figure out why I had straw in my hair this morning!"

She shook her head and chuckled, surprising Hawkeye. He had expected her to do her usual berating for carousing and partying all night, especially since he had missed the morning staff meeting.

"I was in Post-op last night when you two staggered back to the Swamp, barely holding yourselves and each other up. Winchester said you flopped down like two sacks of last week's laundry."

"That's about how we felt, yeah." He looked at his watch. "Speaking of flopping down, I think I will before my shift, as long as BJ and Charles aren't home. I'll see you later, Margaret, when you and Charles come to relieve me."

As he left in the direction of the Swamp, Charles was approaching from the CO's office. He picked up a tray, scowled at the usual lunch-time offerings, and scanned the crowded mess tent for a suitable seat. He smiled when he saw Margaret and joined her table.

"Margaret."

"Charles."

"Only coffee for lunch, Major?"

"I'll eat something later. I was considering taking a nap, before our shift tonight. Unless you need me for something else?" she asked, hopefully. She had been pleased, this morning, when he'd asked her for her expert help in organizing their efforts for the required blackout. She may not be commanding through him, like with Frank Burns, but he was delegating some tasks and authority to her nevertheless, and she was reveling in it. That was, after all, what she'd trained for, being regular Army like Colonel Potter. She wasn't merely a good Head Nurse, she was a competent commander as well, and it was rare for a woman to engage in such a role in war-time.

His confidence in her today only bolstered her growing warm feelings and affection for him. The kiss on her hand this morning had helped too. She subconsciously rubbed the back of her hand, where he'd kissed her so softly. He looked down at her hand, remembering that kiss as well, then looked into her blue eyes, and smiled.

"I do not believe so, Major. Your help this morning, both with the blackout and sorting the paperwork, was all I really needed. The patients in Post-op are all doing well, most of whom will be ready for release by tomorrow morning. ICORPS said there's no expected casualties for our immediate sector, so all we really have to worry about is Flagg and his creeping about the place, like he said he would be doing. I'm afraid Klinger and I were unable to reach Dr. Freedman, so he may arrive for the usual poker game night, but I am sure it'll be well before Midnight. We can settle him in the VIP tent, or he may be able to just leave the area, if Flagg doesn't accost him first."

She smiled, knowing how the two men totally irritated one another. Freedman and Flagg were like night and day, on totally opposite ends of the political spectrum. Flagg always tried intimidating Freedman, and Freedman would laugh in his face, Major to Colonel or not. Freedman saw it more like person to moron.

"The blackout combined with Flagg and Freedman should prove most entertaining. I'm not entirely convinced there IS a covert unit of Chinese operatives, but Flagg is a Colonel, after all, and we have to obey him. Unfortunately," Charles said, amused. Did anyone take Flagg seriously, after all?

"True." Margaret reached across the table and pinched a tater tot off of Charles' tray and popped it in her mouth.

He shoved the tray toward her. "Help yourself, Major."

She laughed, food in her mouth. She's so unassuming, he thought, smiling inside. So different from the women of his usual social circles in Boston. At times, she would be so refined and sophisticated, and other times, like now, she could be base and playful, laughing with food so obviously in her mouth. And she didn't even CARE, that's what fascinated him so!

He laughed in response to the glee in her eyes, enjoying this moment. He looked around the mess tent to see if anyone was watching them. Not a soul. It was not unusual, after all, for the two senior officers to be eating lunch together.

She took a good portion of the remaining tater tots and stood up. "I'm going to take a round through Post-op, then I'm heading for a nap for a while. Pierce was going to the Swamp to sleep as well, before his shift at 1600."

She popped half of the tater tots into her mouth and winked, as she headed for the door. "Come get me if you want anything, Major," she said, mouth full of food. He laughed again as she exited the big tent.

Interesting way to put it, he thought. If I want anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five. Dinner at Margaret's.

Margaret stirred when she heard a gentle rapping on her tent door. She rubbed her eyes, looking around. It was soon after sunset, not quite dark. She must have slept through the sunset announcement Charles had mentioned earlier.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Major Houlihan, I brought you some dinner before our shift," Charles' quiet voice answered.

"OH, yes, Major. One moment please." She threw the light cover off and grabbed her summer robe, wrapping it snugly around her shorts and undershirt. It had been simpler to strip off her uniform and sleep thus than to change into a nightgown, since she was only napping before her shift.

She could, in all propriety, appear in public in shorts and undershirt, it was not as revealing as a bathing suit, but she didn't want tongues to start wagging about her answering the door with such attire on, with a man on the other side!

She opened the door and motioned him in. She ran her hands through her hair to detangle it, wishing she'd thought to comb it first, but it was too late now. Charles had seen her in such disarray before, the camp keeping such odd work hours, so it didn't concern her too much.

"Hang on, Major, let me get the lights."

As the tent lit up, Charles resisted gasping in wonder. She's incredible, he thought, seeing her in the light, soft pink robe so snugly around her perfect figure. Her hair was tousled adoringly, going every which way, in soft platinum waves. She reached across her bed to turn on a second lamp, in the other corner of the tent, exposing a long length of tanned leg.

Charles stood frozen in place, looking up that leg, seeing a bare hint of the shorts underneath. Just before she turned to face him, he shook himself out of shock and set the tray down on her work table.

"I thought you'd like a light repast before our shift tonight, Margaret, and the blackout begins. Once Midnight comes around, we will not be able to leave the building, of course."

Her eyes were alight when she beheld the delectables he'd brought. With a flourish, he told her what it all was.

"A lovely antipasto and a light Zinfandel, not too heavy or strong, so we will have clear heads by Midnight. We have smoked sardines and sharp Chester cheese, directly from England. Capers, imported Greek olives, green and black, fine water crackers to rest it all on, and a variety of pickled vegetables. All courtesy of Mother, Father and Honoria."

"This is LOVELY, Charles, thank you!"

He settled her down in one of the two chairs and presented her with a fine linen napkin, settling it on her lap. He took the two glasses and poured the perfectly chilled wine. She took one of the little plates he'd brought along and a delicate little fork, and began filling the plate while he sat down and got his own food.

He raised his wine glass to her, and she imitated his motion. "Margaret."

"Charles."

She took a sip of the excellent wine. It was just enough for their little meal before working an eight hour shift, light and delicate, easy on the tastebuds and stomach.

"This is delicious, Charles!"

"Of course. I bought a few bottles when I was last in Tokyo and have managed to keep my stash concealed from the Swamprats," he said, winking conspiratorily.

They ate in comfortable silence, serving one another, sharing this intimate moment as they'd done before. He'd brought such delicacies to her tent in the past, knowing she'd appreciate the unusual fare, a nice change from the mess tent food. He'd learned after one incident to leave the canned "pheasant under glass" in his tent, after they'd both got food poisoning!

As had happened earlier that day, they were thinking alike, and both reached for the wine bottle, Charles' hand engulfing Margaret's as she grasped the bottle first.

This time it was his turn to leave his hand there, not moving. He looked into her eyes, willing to release her hand if she objected, hoping she did not. After pausing a moment he carefully separated her fingers from the bottleneck, and took her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingers delicately, his gaze locked on her blue eyes.

Holding her lightly by the palm and wrist, he gently kissed each individual finger, almost nibbling, moving from one to the other slowly and carefully. She was fascinated, watching his lips touch her in such a manner, alternately looking at his mouth and into his glowing eyes. His gaze burned into her, time seeming to stand still in this magical moment.

Moving slowly so as not to break the spell, she placed her other hand on his, resting on the table, and started to slide it up the length of his forearm.

"Charles..." she whispered, her eyes glowing in anticipation, "I..."

And before she could finish, there was a loud knock on her door.

The two jumped, pulling their hands apart and resting them on their laps, looking and feeling almost guilty for what might have transpired.

"What IS it," Margaret shrieked in surprise and frustration.

It was Klinger. "Major Freedman is here, Major. In the Swamp with Captain Hunnicutt. I wasn't sure where Major Winchester was, I thought he might want to talk to him."

"Come in, Klinger, you don't need to yell through the door."

Klinger opened the door, and saw the two. "Oh, there you are, Major. Am I interrupting dinner?"

"Yes, Klinger, you are."

Klinger looked at the delicacies spread on the little table. More high-brow stuff, no doubt.

"Did you need to see Major Freedman, sir? We figured we could get some poker in, before the blackout, didn't know if you two wanted to join us. So far it's me, BJ, Father Mulcahey, Major Freedman and Rizzo. He's filling in for Captain Pierce."

"Has anyone seen Flagg buzzing about the compound?"

Klinger smiled. "No, sir, but that doesn't mean he's not here. You know how he is. He may just show up out of the blue to play, I don't know."

"Major Houlihan and I have things to discuss, and our dinner to finish. If we're playing, we will be there in an hour or so. We start our shift at Midnight, so we may not be able to play, we'll have to make any last-minute arrangements for the blackout. I am confident you and Hunnicutt can entertain Dr. Freedman in the meantime. Did you put his gear into the VIP tent?"

"Yes, Major."

"Very well, Klinger, if we are going to be there, it will be in about an hour."

"Yes, sir," he said, moving to the door. He nodded his head at Margaret. "Major."

After he'd gone, the two looked at one another, wishing they could continue where they'd left off. But the spell had been shattered. Charles again reached for the wine.

"More wine, Margaret?"

"Yes, please," she said in a soft voice.

They clinked their glasses, both gazing at one another over the rims as they took sips.

This time, when their hands touched, it was no accident. Charles deliberately took her hand, and resumed kissing it, again looking into her shining blue eyes.

Margaret was lost in wonder, looking from his mouth to his eyes and back again. It didn't take long to recapture the earlier moment, and she again reached for his other hand, holding it in her own.

Charles stood and went to her side of the little table, towering over her. He knelt down on one knee, never stopping the kissing and nibbling on her fingers. He slid his free arm over her shoulders, pulling her slightly to him, looking up at her from her fingers that his lips so delicately caressed and touched.

He leaned toward her, bringing her hand and his between them, and somewhere along the way his lips left her hand and found her mouth, lips partly open as her breathing had become more rapid and shallow in anticipation and excitement.

The initial contact was exquisitely soft and gentle, cautious and uncertain, as he touched her lips with his own, wondering if she would object, again hoping fervently she would not. When she slid her arm up behind his neck, pulling him ever so slightly closer to her, he could no longer resist, and he pulled her standing, pressing her against him.

Margaret's knees were weak as Charles pulled her up, and wrapped his long arms around her back. He was so tall and strong, he almost lifted her off her feet, roughly pulling her to him, smothering her mouth with his own. It was fortunate he was holding her so close, because she really thought her knees would buckle if he was not!

The initial soft kiss had turned into a burning, passionate embrace, Margaret lifting her arms up under his own, wrapping them as much around him as she could. He was so much bigger than she, that all she could do was grip him and hang on, let him do all the supporting, which she was perfectly happy to do.

When he'd been kneeling beside her, carefully kissing her opened mouth, and she had put her arm around his neck showing her acceptance of him, Charles almost lost his mind. All these months, all the little "accidents" of being close, touching one another, working together and yes, even fighting on occasion, had led up to this moment of togetherness. Charles had not intended on becoming involved with anyone in this dump, but he could not help but be mesmerized by one Major Margaret Houlihan. She was such an enigma to him, which only fueled his fascination! And now, to feel her fingers digging into his back, so strong and intimate, and to have his mouth and lips and tongue touching her, he was in another realm of ecstasy.

Beautiful and firey, bluntly honest and open, intelligent and a brilliant nurse, she had so many qualities that made her an incredible woman and person. And she was in his arms, tonight, melting so completely against him. The feel of her pressed so closely to him was affecting him in many ways, but sadly, he knew that could not progress to its natural conclusion. At least, not tonight. Being with her in this way, this evening, was enough.

Charles wanted to revel in the sweet anticipation of a night that hopefully would include much more. But that was to think about at another time. He was lost in their embrace, and could have remained so for hours, content to hold her against him.

His mouth finally separated from hers, and continued down the length of her strong jawline, to her earlobe, and further to the gentle curve of her neck and shoulder. His hands released her, and started untying the snug robe, slipping underneath to wrap around her narrow waist and prominent hips. He didn't permit his hands to roam any further than that, not wishing to compromise their intimate position with presuming to go too far this first time together.

Good, his hands stopped, Margaret thought. She was afraid she'd have to put an end to it if he'd gone further, then remembered she was in the presence of a real gentleman. That made the entire situation even more exciting to her, that Charles was not one to presume to do as he would with her.

She wanted to do some nibbling and kissing of her own, so she pulled away from him, took his hand, and sat him down on her bed. She stood in front of him, robe opened, in her shorts and little undershirt, looking down into his smiling eyes. He again wrapped his hands around her waist, and pulled her closer, kissing under her chin and along the line where neck met chest, wanting to bury himself in her softness, to let his lips and tongue wander further down, but not daring to be so bold...yet.

She turned and perched on his lap, enjoying the feel of his strong hands and arms around her waist, holding her on him. She put her arms around his shoulders and leaned into his neck and throat, kissing and nibbling as he'd done to her earlier. She paused at his earlobe, lapping at it, nipping and biting, knowing how that drove most men wild. She could tell, after a few minutes, that she was definitely getting to him.

"Margaret," Charles groaned, his voice rough from the rising excitement.

"Yes, Charles?" she whispered innocently, so close to his ear, letting the breath tickle him.

He had to will himself to pull back, away from her luscious mouth. "Margaret, my sweet, please, if you keep that up, I fear we may find ourselves in a compromising position long before we are ready to be."

She smiled at him, pleased that he'd chosen to put a stop to it. Definitely a gentleman, she thought.

She draped her arms across his neck and shoulders, resting her head comfortably on him, sighing contentedly. "You're right, of course, Charles. I was getting carried away."

He could hear the smile in her voice, and laughed. "I was on the brink of being carried away myself, young lady!"

She stood and stretched in front of him, enjoying his gaze on her, his eyes running up and down her figure, admiring her. She slipped the robe completely off and went to her uniform that she'd hung on the door. She began dressing in front of him, unashamedly, knowing he was drinking her in.

She went to him where he'd remained seated on the edge of her bed, and put her hands on his shoulders, pulling his mouth to her. She gave him a long, burning kiss and straightened up.

"So, Major Winchester, shall we go to the poker game after all?"

He kissed her one more time, at her door, while he could. "Yes, Major Houlihan, let's do."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six. Sidney.

Winchester and Houlihan entered the Swamp fashionably late, the poker game in full swing. It was like the players were trying to get as much in as they could, before the 23:45 deadline they'd given themselves. Once Klinger's watch read that time, all bets were off, win or lose.

Charles led the way in.

"Gentlemen," he said, shucking his overshirt off and throwing it on his bunk.

"Charles, Margaret, how are you? Heard you had a bit of excitement today."

Margaret blushed at the Sidney's words, although she knew he was refering to Colonel Flagg, the Chinese and the blackout this evening.

"Yes, it all fell into place soon after the Colonel and Klinger left this morning, Sidney. And I'm fine."

She pulled up a wooden box to sit on, between Father Mulcahey and Major Freedman.

Sidney's keen eye had not missed the blush on the Major's fair cheeks, and he smiled. She had such a lovely glow.

Charles pulled out his favorite seat that he kept folded behind his bunk, for his use only everyone knew, and sat opposite Sidney, Margaret and the Father, between Rizzo and Hunnicutt.

He blew the smoke from Rizzo's rank cigar away, toward BJ, and coughed.

"Rizzo, do you HAVE to smoke that purulent piece of tobacco in my tent?"

"Oh, lay off, Charles, nobody's complained yet, just you," BJ said.

"Very well, it's not like we'll be here until the wee hours as we usually are. I am fine as well, Dr. Freedman."

"Sidney, Charles, Sidney. We're mostly Majors here, after all. Three of us at least." Sidney wondered at Winchester's easy capitulation to Rizzo's cigar. He knew Charles was usually one to go on, ad nauseum, about a gripe or complaint until someone eventually conceded.

"You seem to be in bright spirits tonight, Charles. Excited about something actually happening while you're CO this time around?"

It was Charles' turn to blush. Brilliantly, in fact. Sidney wasn't the only who'd caught the rise in color in Charles' own fair skin.

"Well, of course, this is the first time something of such import has happened while I have been in charge, Sidney."

Charles knew Margaret's sudden cough wasn't just her choking on the beer Rizzo had handed her earlier, but he didn't react one way or the other.

Sidney got thinking though. "Excitement" and Margaret blushed so prettily. "Excited" and Charles blushed so brilliantly. They came in together, an hour after Klinger had returned from their eating dinner in Margaret's tent. Sidney's dark brown eyes got a glint in them, as he resolved to examine Winchester opposite him, and Houlihan next to him, more carefully in the next couple of hours, before they went on shift and the blackout began.

He could tell, as the minutes wore on and the group was laughing, shouting and cutting up during their play, that the two were trying extra hard to maintain a 'normal' and 'innocent' demeanour. They were trying almost TOO hard, Sidney knew.

He joined in, always happy to play in the weekly poker game. This was HIS R&R every week, a chance to kick back and be himself with good, intelligent, like-minded folks who accepted him completely. He didn't observe only Charles and Margaret, but everyone in the Swamp. He couldn't help it; it was his nature, as a psychiatrist, to watch the dynamics of people interacting.

He knew one unusual thing about the 4077th was how the personnel got along. Here there were five officers, Captains and Majors, and two enlisted personnel, Klinger and Rizzo. The two enlisted men did not seem uncomfortable at all surrounded by all of these officers. They maintained the proper respect to rank and position, but did not let that deter them from having fun and razzing one another with the rest.

Sidney noticed the surreptious glances between the two other Majors, the little smirks and obvious winks when they thought nobody was watching. Sidney, being the professional observer that he was, could watch others with nobody the wiser, and took advantage of this skill tonight.

Fortunately for Charles and Margaret, another professional trait Sidney always maintained was confidentiality. He did not feel the need nor the desire to share this intimate knowledge with anyone else, not even BJ or Hawkeye. Sidney was content knowing this information for himself. The relationship certainly seemed of positive value to both Winchester and Houlihan!

The key, now, would be to see if they could continue their exemplary professional relationship they'd enjoyed for months. He was certain that would not be a problem, but he wouldn't be able to find out tonight. If he was in the hospital building at the stroke of Midnight, he'd be stuck there for six hours. He'd wait until the next poker game to see how things may've progressed between the two, ask subtle questions on their work performance.

Klinger glanced at his watch. "Ten minute warning," he announced to the Swamp in general.

Everyone began to play faster, wanting to get in as much as they could in the next ten minutes. By the time it hit 23:45, the players threw down their cards, laughing and pulling the pot back, since they hadn't finished the hand.

"Very well, people, time to begin blackout procedures. I believe you all know what to do. Go to bed, turn off your lights, and sleep. Quite simple, I think even the people of this camp could get it," Charles said, as he almost shoved people out of his tent.

BJ flopped down on his bunk, exhausted. He normally would have napped after his shift, so he and Hawkeye could do their nightly visit to Rosie's or the Officer's Club when Pierce came off-duty, but knowing he'd only be in the dark, he'd stayed up. Oh well, wouldn't hurt to actually SLEEP in the evening for a change!

"'Night, Charles!" BJ called out as Winchester and Freedman left him alone in his tent.

"Hunnicutt," Charles said in his usual curt manner.

Flagg stepped in front of the two Majors. Margaret had already returned to her tent, changing into a fresh uniform and preparing for the evening shift. And dabbing a wee bit of that Chanel No. 5 behind each ear.

Flagg shook his head toward Freedman, addressing Charles, acting like the other Major was not there. "What's HE doing here?"

"He is here tonight as he is every week: to play poker, which we just finished."

Flagg looked the shorter man in the eye, squinting suspiciously. "I find it ODD that he is here when this unit of Chinese SPIES is skulking around the area!"

"Colonel, I assure you, the Major is here EVERY week, and your Chinese spies are not. It is not odd in the least."

"Well..." Flagg started again.

"Colonel, Major, I am retiring to the VIP tent. Good night." Sidney turned and left, not deigning to acknowledge Flagg's usual accusations. What an idiot, he thought.

Flagg watched him walk off, and turned to Charles.

"So? You've got everything prepared?"

"Yes, Colonel, we have been prepared for hours, long before sunset. Now, if you'll excuse me," Charles saw Margaret returning, heading to the building, "I have a Midnight shift to start. Perhaps you can berate Pierce, here he comes now, ending his duty shift as we speak."

Charles left Flagg standing in front of the Swamp and met Hawkeye in the compound. "Anything I should know, Pierce?"

Hawkeye yawned, rather glad that BJ wasn't expecting to go out carousing tonight. He only wanted to sleep too, during the blackout period.

"No, Charles, nothing at all. It was an extremely boring duty shift, the kind I very much enjoy. I helped myself to some of your poetry books, hope you don't mind!"

"WHAT? What were you doing in the CO's office?"

"What do I always do there? I snoop! Jeesh, Charles, even Potter knows I go in there on night shifts to look for something to read. I much prefered your books to Zane Grey!"

Flagg approached when he heard his favorite word: snoop.

Hawkeye groaned as he noticed Flagg for the first time. "Oh, God, Flagg, what are YOU doing here?"

"All right, Pierce, WHERE were you snooping?"

"I was snooping around Milton, Lord Byron and Yeats, and you?"

"Who are they, some of your contacts?"

The two doctors laughed, making Flagg even more confused, which he did not enjoy. Confusion made him suspicious.

Charles spoke before Flagg could. "Colonel, I'd like to stay and chat...no, actually, I would not. Good night." He turned on his heel, similar to how Sidney had done minutes ago, and walked off. Pierce didn't take much time to vanish either, leaving Colonel Flagg standing alone, in the compound.

Six minutes to Midnight, he thought. He found a hiding spot and prepared to wait for sunrise. He realized, into the early morning, that he should've thought to hit the latrine first. Oh well.

Margaret arrived in Post-op minutes before Midnight, and took advantage of the full lighting to make rounds, to satisfy her curiosity. Lt. Baker had ended the shift with Hawkeye. She was a competent nurse (of course), so Margaret knew she'd have nothing to worry about. She wanted to familiarize herself with their five patients, in case an emergency arose later.

She had their charts in hand and ready for Charles when he joined her at five minutes to Midnight.

"Here you go, Doctor," she said, falling into their usual and comfortable Nurse-Doctor relationship. That had not changed, after all.

"Thank you, Major." He glanced at the clock. "How about we do what we need to do right now, then I will go over the charts?"

"Certainly, Major." Margaret left one small lamp on, at the end with the outside door of Post-op, and the single lamp over the Doctors' and Nurses' desks. All other lights were out in the outer rooms and offices.

When she returned, Charles was sitting at the duty desk, reviewing each patient's case thoroughly. She sat back at the other desk that the nurses used, and watched him concentrate.

He was an enigma, full of surprises, as she'd noted once in her journal. He often put on airs, acting superior to everyone, yet there were times when he could be a dear friend, such as when he'd defended her in front of the whole camp against Colonel Baldwin's outrageous accusation of her alleged conduct unbecoming to an officer. Or when the Congressional aide had arrived, with the intent of pinning "Communist sympathizer" on her.

She looked at the big clock. 0005. The blackout was officially underway. She relaxed where she was, her sharp ears straining to hear something. All she heard were the patients sleeping, and Charles' breathing, it was so very quiet. She shifted her position, the slight sound breaking into Charles' concentration.

He looked up, only now realizing she was there, watching him. He looked at the patients, then back to Margaret and smiled.

"All quiet on the Korean front, Margaret."

She smirked in reply. "Yes, Doctor."

He propped his chin in his hand, resting his elbow on the desk, and continued to look at her, smiling, a playful gleam in his eye as he remembered the evening before their poker game. Sweet memories to take to his bunk by 0830 in the morning, perhaps the potential for more sweet memories tomorrow evening.

She looked playfully at him, glancing at the patients as well. Too bad she and Charles couldn't sneak off to a secluded corner and resume their earlier intimacy, but no, not while on duty. Definitely not. She couldn't help but remember the music and books she'd seen them carrying to the office. Well, a little quiet music would certainly not disturb the patients, nor would his reading aloud to her, as long as they remained nearby.

She moved behind him, turning him to face away from the ward, her own back to it as well, put her hands on his shoulders and leaned down to whisper into his ear.

"Why don't you get your phonograph set up, and put on some soft music? Read me some poetry? I mean, if that's all right, Doctor."

The closeness of her mouth, and the breath near his ear, made Charles' nerves tingle once more. His sensitive nose picked up her perfume. Ah, No. 5. Lovely. He whispered back, wishing he could reach around and set her on his lap once more, to kiss her, "That would be acceptable, Nurse. Please wait here."

He grabbed a flashlight and went to the CO's office, sneaking carefully past the sleeping Klinger. He got his Vivaldi record, the phonograph and a few books.

He put on the record, the Season Suite, which he knew was very soft and gentle, not too loud and disturbing to the sleeping patients. He put Margaret's chair opposite his own, sat her and himself down, and opened his book of Byron's complete works to a favorite passage. He glanced at the well-worn page, and closed the book again, holding the place with his finger. He knew this one by heart, being one of Bryon's greatest works. He hoped the poet would forgive him for taking a little poetic license of his own.

Looking once more at the sleeping patients, Charles took Margaret's hand into his own, sweetly kissed it, and put it on the desk, covering it with his hand.

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every platinum tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

He added one more line, leaning to whisper in her ear, "Dear Margaret, make me immortal with a kiss!"

It was all they could do not to fling themselves into one another's arms then and there, but they resisted. The tension between them was palpible, the desire radiating from one to the other. It was going to be a LONG six hours!

Margaret and Charles both settled down with a book, Margaret taking her favorite, Emily Dickinson. Charles knew what she liked and had deliberately brought her favorite book. Charles was enjoying Milton.

Every half hour, they'd make the rounds of the five patients, all still sleeping soundly. Good. Pierce was right, Charles thought. A boring duty shift is the best.

At 0326, their quiet and relaxing duty shift was shattered by the thunder of ambulances entering the compound, lighting up the place, horns blaring to get everyone's attention. The blast of light and sound made Klinger almost fall out of his bunk, and he staggered to the PA.

"ATTENTION, all personnel! Incoming wounded in the compound, report immediately to triage and the OR!"

He glanced outside, saw the first of three choppers landing on the chopper pad. THREE choppers?

"Incoming choppers, medical team to the chopper pad, we've got THREE coming in!" He pulled on his uniform pants and stomped into his boots, instantly awake, and ran to assist in whichever way was needed.

All medical and support staff reacted instantly, pouring out of their tents, pulling on their clothes and boots, running for the compound and chopper pad. Hawkeye was already in the center of it all, waving some people to continue up to the choppers, and some to the triage area. The stretchers started pouring out of the ambulances as BJ and Charles began reviewing cases inside.

The three of them were not going to be able to handle this onslaught. Hawkeye saw Klinger running with packets of blood to Major Houlihan.

"KLINGER! Come here for a second!"

Klinger almost flung the precious blood at Margaret, who was prepared to catch, and ran to Hawkeye. "Speak, O Chief of Surgeons!"

"Run and get Sidney, we need all the hands we can get in the OR!"

Dr. Freedman was leaving the VIP tent as Klinger ran up to him. "Major! Hawkeye said you've volunteered for surgery! Come ON!" He grabbed Sidney by the arm and almost dragged him along.

Oh, God, not surgery! he thought. He ran along behind Klinger, the company clerk no longer needing to drag him to get him going. Well, I AM an MD after all, I've done surgery before! And last time this happened, Hawk said I did a good job! Long as they don't give me a complicated one. Which they wouldn't.

Hawkeye was bent over a patient on a stretcher, on the ground, with Nurse Abel. He saw Sidney run up, anticipation on the man's face.

"Hawk, what can I do?"

Hawkeye motioned him to follow Charles into Pre-op. "Go see Charles, look over the wounded, see what you can handle. You know what you can do surgically better than I do, Sidney!"

Pierce's trust in him bolstered his confidence, and Sidney ran off, "Right!"

He ran into Pre-op to see the usual organized chaos. Charles was holding court, going from patient to patient to see who'd need it first. He saw Sidney come in, and directed him to go scrub.

Sidney said, "Hawkeye told me to see you, told me to look over the wounded, see who I could handle!"

"Right, over there then, those are superficial and less serious cases. You can handle those! Let the orderlies and nurses know which ones you'll take, and get scrubbed!"

"Yes, Doctor!"

Sidney didn't let Charles' blunt words offend him. Winchester knew Freedman had done surgery, yes, but only in his rotations as an intern, many years ago, and once or twice here at the 4077th when he happened to be visiting. Like tonight.

He went down the line of wounded, all conscious and most moaning in pain. His heart wrenched as he faced these men in physical pain and emotional distress. Now he remembered why he'd gone into psychiatry, but he didn't let that slow him down. He was needed, even if these cases were not life-threatening. If his help freed up the surgeons for the serious ones, it was worth discomfort now, and the case of the shakes that were sure to hit him when he came down off the adrenalin rush.

Major Houlihan had asked Kellye to follow Dr. Freedman, so she tagged along behind him as he reviewed the cases. She grew impatient. He was taking way too much time picking and choosing. She had to say something.

"Doctor, with all due respect, we really need to hurry here!"

"Yes, Nurse, I understand. You've been here for a while, YOU tell me, who do I take first?"

She approached a wounded Corporal. "Take him, it won't take long, and we can free you up for others." She motioned to two orderlies, and pointed to the table Sidney would be at.

"Come, Doctor, I'll help you get gowned and scrubbed!"

As Kellye guided him around, he realized what an excellent nurse she was. All the nurses here were incredibly talented and compassionate, he realized, seeing them work from the other end for a change, as a "surgeon." He must compliment Margaret when he had the chance, and tell the Colonel his observations.

Between the two of them, Kellye both assisting and acting as anesthetist, they got five cases in and out in a short time. She had been an OR nurse for so long, well before her arrival at the 4077th, that he trusted her opinion if he wasn't doing something precisely right. He allowed her to close for him, watching her technique like he was a student, she a teacher.

Sidney had a short lull while he waited for patient number six. Kellye had gone to fetch him fresh gloves. He watched the OR staff work. The three surgeons, surrounded by Margaret and her staff, worked smoothly and efficiently, not wasting any precious time.

They had so many wounded that even if Potter had been here, Freedman would've been called upon to help. Such was the risk when he played a weekly game of poker at a MASH unit.

Kellye returned with fresh gloves and two orderlies behind her, holding another stretcher.

"This one's a little tougher, Doctor, but the other surgeons can't get to him yet. From what I've been observing tonight, I am certain you can handle it."

Hawkeye had taken the table near Sidney, in case he was needed, and heard Kellye's comments. He peered at the patient, and Kellye held the young man's chart up for Hawkeye to read.

"Sure, Sidney, you can do this. Holler at me if you need some help, but you'll be fine!" Hawkeye knew the importance of confidence when operating on a body, and wanted to be sure Sidney knew he trusted him to do well.

By the time all of the patients had been tended to, moved to Post-op or evac'd elsewhere, twelve hours had gone by. It had been a huge influx of patients, but fortunately the cases were not as serious as they could have been. A twelve-hour surgery session was almost a cake-walk. The 4077th had maintained it's "Best of the Best" record, and they'd not lost a single patient.

Flagg seemed to have melted into the scenery somewhere. Good riddance to him, Sidney thought.

The three surgeons, Sidney and Margaret emerged into the daylight, stretching and yawning. BJ did a little jog in place, limbering up muscles made stiff from standing too many long hours. Margaret waved her arms back and forth, stretching her shoulder and back muscles. Charles went to her and gave her a shoulder and neck rub.

She closed her eyes and relaxed into it, enjoying the feel of his hands on her again. It was not unusual for him to do this, after all: the surgeons and nurses often gave one another back and neck rubs after a long surgical session. Charles wasn't going to waste such a natural and acceptable opportunity!

Sidney did his own calisthenics, pleased about his performance. He felt he'd been a real help to the surgical staff, making a not insignificant dent in the number of patients that had poured in. He didn't miss Charles giving Margaret a backrub. Ah, do it so publicly, like everyone else is doing. Hawkeye was sitting on a bench while Lt. Baker rubbed his shoulders. Lt. Abel had sat BJ down and began massaging him, after his limbering up session.

He was startled to find a strong hand on his arm, turning him around. Lt. Kellye was there, motioning him to a bench in the compound.

"Doctor? It's your turn."

He smiled at her, following her to the bench, sitting down as she'd ordered. "You did an excellent job in there, Major Freedman. Hawkeye was watching you when he could, and said you did an amazingly good job for a doctor who's not a trained surgeon!"

Sidney couldn't suppress his pride in a job well-done. "The adrenalin certainly helped, and watching YOU, Lieutenant! You are an amazing OR nurse, I hope Margaret realizes that!"

She beamed with pride as well. "Yes, sir, she knows. She may be a taskmaster, but she does not ask us to do anything she wouldn't do herself. We wouldn't be on her staff if we weren't the best!"

Her face certainly lights up when she smiles like that, Sidney realized, thinking how lovely Nurse Kellye was, inside and out. Her strong hands began to dig, almost painfully, into his knotted muscles, and he felt the tension begin to melt away. He felt something else too: the shakes he knew he'd get after coming down from the adrenalin high.

Kellye felt his muscles begin to shake and shudder, and changed her technique, knowing what was happening. Instead of kneading his muscles, she started to simply rub, in long gentle strokes, cooing at him in her native Hawai'ian language. She was sending relaxing thoughts and energy to him, not knowing if he was receptive, but knowing her own relaxed attitude would carry over to his jangled nerves. She was right. The long, slow rubs worked their magic, and his muscles soon calmed down, his tension gone.

He turned to face her, and smiled in thanks. "That was wonderful, Kellye! Thank you! You certainly have a way with your patients."

She smiled shyly, suddenly embarassed. She looked at the other nurses and doctors, who were beginning to wander to various locations, some to their beds, some to the mess tent for coffee. She saw Majors Houlihan and Winchester head for the mess tent.

"Why don't we go to the mess and get a hot cup of coffee, Doctor?"

"That sounds lovely, yes," he replied, following closely behind her. He definitely wanted to work with Nurse Kellye again, and soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven. Duty Rosters.

Charles, Margaret and BJ were already at a table, sipping their coffee, trying to chase the weariness from their eyes. Hawkeye had remained in Post-op, telling the others to go take a break and have something to eat. He had the unwelcomed task of determining who had what shift, in order to get back to the 'official' duty roster, but in the meantime, the other doctors could take a few hours off to sleep.

Sidney and Kellye got their coffees and joined them.

"For so many patients, that session wasn't too bad, was it?" Sidney asked, smiling at BJ and Charles. He was still rather puffed up inside, marveling at what a good job he'd done with scalpel and suture today. With Kellye's professional help, of course.

BJ smiled in return, knowing from what he'd heard from Hawkeye that Sidney had done very well. "Not quite like riding a bicycle, is it, Sidney? Hawk said you and Kellye did a great job!"

Kellye blushed, looking down into her coffee mug. She didn't usually join the higher-ups after surgery like this, but was somehow reluctant to leave Dr. Freedman's side. They'd worked together, and very efficiently, for hours. He was so nice, and had demured to her opinions and even her orders, letting her take charge in a lot of the cases. His main task had been to do (most) of the surgery himself. Closing was considered surgery, and she knew back in Hawaii or the States she would not have been permitted to do that.

She smiled at Sidney. "He has good technique, actually. And a good memory. I only had to remind him of something once and he'd get it the next time. We got through a lot of the simple and superficial cases early on."

Sidney laughed, remembering. "Yes, it's been a LONG time since med school and my surgical rotation! But it came back to me after Kellye would kindly point things out to me. I almost felt like I WAS in med school again!"

"Very good, Doctor, Lt. Kellye," Charles piped in. He had to admit that Sidney's help was most welcomed, and told him so.

Sidney blushed, knowing how rare such a compliment was from Winchester. "Coming from you, Charles, that's very important to me! You and Hawkeye, too, BJ!"

"We'll try not to make a habit of this, Dr. Freedman, but when a deluge comes in like that, we sometimes have no choice, especially with the Colonel gone."

"That's the risk I take, making regular visits to a MASH unit!"

They finished their post-surgery wrap-up and their coffees. BJ stretched once more, and excused himself. He had those forty winks to catch up on.

Sidney sighed and excused himself as well. "It's been fun, Charles, Margaret. I'd best get back to where I belong, and explain why I was delayed. Wait'll they hear I was in SURGERY of all places!"

He turned to Lt. Kellye, a soft smile on his face. "Kellye, maybe when I come by next week for the game, you can join us?"

She looked at Charles and Margaret, stunned by the invitation. Nobody had ever thought to ask her, and as far as she knew any of the other nurses, to the popular weekly game. "Sure, Doctor, I'd love to! If you don't mind being parted from your hard-earned scrip!"

He smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. "Certainly not. Goodness knows I lost enough last night! I'll see you all next week, then!"

She watched him as he walked out of sight, toward the VIP tent. She didn't realize the two Majors were watching her as well.

She stood abruptly. "If you'll excuse me, Majors, I'm going to grab the shower before anyone else thinks to!"

Charles and Margaret were left sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. Finally.

She leaned over and whispered, "I thought they'd NEVER leave, Charles!"

He smiled, sipping coffee, mumbling into his mug. "You were driving me INSANE last night, before the casualties came in!"

Her mind was racing. How were they going to do this? How would this play out? She didn't want Frank Burns all over again, but then again, Charles wasn't married. All those years, she and Frank thought they were being discreet, that nobody was the wiser. Turns out EVERYBODY in the camp knew about the both of them! What was it they did that gave it away? Whatever it was, she wanted to avoid the same mistake with Charles.

IF something serious came from this, they would make it official and announce they were dating. No jealous wives or husbands to worry about, thank God!

It was perfectly natural for the CO, in this case Charles, and the Head Nurse to have a private one-on-one meeting. During the day, her quarters also served as an office, with forms, reports, regulation books, everything needed in her capacity as Head Nurse. So it wasn't unusual for Charles to be there. Goodness knows Colonel Potter had had occasions to meet with her in her tent for private conversations.

"Major, if you could, would you join me to go over the duty roster? Dr. Pierce is adjusting the surgeons' schedules, and I have to as well for my nurses."

"Yes, Major, of course." They stood and brought their mugs to the trolley and left, nobody the wiser.

She made a show of consulting her clipboard as they walked, showing him something on it, Charles nodding his head as if in agreement.

Margaret jotted a little note on the scrap pad she always had attached. "I want you so much right now!"

He frowned outwardly, shaking his head, taking her pen and making a show of making a "correction." "She walks in beauty..."

Margaret gasped, changing it to a look of outrage as she turned to face him. "Major!"

"You asked for my assistance, Major Houlihan, so I shall provide it." He feigned annoyance as well, trying his best not to laugh out loud. The entire camp knew of the infamous battles of words the two Majors generally engaged in. This current one was no exception, and people walked by, ignoring them.

They entered her quarters, and she turned to set the clipboard down, sensing his presence right behind her. As she turned to face him, he abruptly grabbed her and pulled her close, kissing her deeply and passionately, his grip almost painful as he held her. He was crushing her mouth with his own, and she wrapped her arms around him once again, this time deliberately digging her nails into his back.

They kissed that way for a few moments, releasing the tension that had built up the night before. Margaret pulled back, gasping for breath. She'd never DREAMED he could be so passionate! He lifted her easily in his arms and set her down on her bed, lying down beside her.

She cuddled under his shoulder, his arm cushioning her head, and sighed contentedly. Before she knew it, she had begun to doze. Some instinct told her, WAKE UP!

She started awake. Charles was snoring softly in her ear.

She jostled him awake. "Charles, get up! We can't DO this! If we fall asleep, we won't wake up until SOMEONE FINDS US! Especially YOU!"

That did it. He started awake too, suddenly sitting upright. Not a good idea to be reclining next to Margaret, with both of them so tired.

He took a deep breath, confident he was awake, and lay back down again, if only for a few moments. He turned onto his side, to lie facing her, and took her hand, pulling her on top of him. She rested there, her chin on her hand, on his chest, and gazed into his eyes. She couldn't resist and ran her fingertips along his soft sensitive mouth, outlining it, remembering what he'd done with that mouth and her fingers.

He playfully nipped at her fingers, gently biting them. He did that while his hands found other things to do. He rubbed her back, slowly and carefully moving them down, down, down, waiting for her to stop him. He eventually ended up grasping the back of her thighs, glorying in the feel of her. His hands gripped her again, on her legs, and scooched her upward, bringing her neck and throat close to his mouth.

As he nibbled and kissed, his hands took a break from his brain and started running all over her backside again, feeling her strong thighs, her perfectly round derriere, her broad hips. He couldn't get enough of her, his mouth hungrily nibbling and biting her neck, playing close attention to the sweet and sensitive skin beneath her ear. The smell of her residual Chanel No. 5 filled his senses. He breathed her in, relishing her closeness, the fragrance of her perfume, the fresh smell of her soft hair.

Margaret was on fire as he ran his hands over her and his mouth did magic to her neck and throat. She felt so tiny, resting completely on him, letting him explore her more in-depth. She knew it could not and would not go much further, this was only the prelude to when they'd finally make love. She was in no hurry, enjoying this exquisite period of discovery. They had several months to catch up on! She knew that rushing it would ruin the sweet journey to one another.

She kissed him before she said, "Charles, we have to stop. Now. We're both exhausted and if we stay here much longer, we'll fall asleep and it'll be a DISASTER!"

"Yes, Margaret, you are correct." He kissed her back, lingering on her parted lips once more, nibbling and teasing her. "I'll...be...leaving...shortly." He said, kissing her with each word. He wished they could continue like this until the Colonel returned, but unfortunately he could not.

He stood up and straightened his fatigues and ran his fingers through his sparse hair, turning to her. She'd remained lying down, ready to fall asleep once more.

He leaned down to kiss her, "Good night, my sweet." He smiled, and added, "I'm going to make a big show of leaving in a huff, don't be alarmed. I'll be back at 6:00 this evening, to check those updated duty rosters!"

She laughed. It was a perfect plan to get him to return, even if for an hour.

He affected an indignant and outraged pose, something he was quite adept at doing, and violently shoved the door open, turning to scream into the tent, "MAJOR Houlihan! I shall return at 6PM, and I EXPECT those duty rosters to be COMPLETED!"

He slammed the door behind him and stomped off to the Swamp, leaving the people who'd heard chuckling. Another typical fight between The Majors.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight. Families.

Charles stomped away from Margaret's tent, feigning annoyance about the nurses' duty roster. He swung open the door to the Swamp and flung himself on his bunk. Finally. A chance to SLEEP!

Or so he thought. Klinger was on Charles' heels, practically following him into the Swamp.

He shook Charles' shoulder as the Major was already beginning to snore softly. "Major. Major!"

Charles groaned, "Klinger, go away." He flopped onto his side, away from the annoying Company Clerk.

"Major, it's important, you need to sign these requisitions! I'm already going through Supply to replace what we've been using all day and night!"

Charles sighed in resignation and sat up so he could look at each document, at least in brief. He knew better than to grab and sign. Company Clerks had a habit of slipping in things to be signed without the CO's knowledge, after all!

He rifled through them all quickly, then took the pen Klinger gave him and started signing. "Here, you desert rat! Now GO AWAY!" He flopped back down once more.

Klinger leaned down close. "Do you need a wake-up call tonight, O Pompous One?"

"5 PM, Max."

Klinger smiled. He adores me. "Yes, Major. Sweet dreams."

Seemingly an instant later, Klinger was there, shaking Charles' shoulder.

"Five o'clock, sleepyhead! Rise and shine!"

Charles threw his pillow at Klinger, who was wise enough to duck. Charles looked around sleepily. "AM or PM?"

"PM, sir, like you requested. Captain Pierce says you're on at Midnight again. He and Captain Hunnicutt traded shifts for tonight, then tomorrow everyone's back to the original roster."

"All right, thank you, Max."

Klinger left for the mess tent and dinner. Charles smelled the unappetizing odors wafting from the direction of the mess and crinkled his nose in displeasure. Surely there must be something left in his coffers! He remembered he'd brought his food stash to the CO's office. He'd get a shower in and tally what was left of his gifts from home, perhaps bring some again to Margaret's tent at 6PM.

He put on his robe, grabbed his towel and ditty bag and headed for the showers. "Nurses Only" the sign on the door said. Damn. One of the women beat him to it. He knocked on the door, loud enough so whomever was in there would hear.

"Hello, are you going to be much longer?" he inquired politely.

He was surprised to hear Margaret's reply.

"Just a few moments, Major, I'm almost done! I only need to rinse off!"

His heart gave a startling thump when he heard her, especially envisioning her need to rinse off! Soapy, lathered up Margaret. His mind couldn't help wandering to that lovely image. Her voice sounded so light and gay, he was sure she'd phrased it that way on purpose, to illicit such a vision in his mind.

He cleared his throat to be sure he could reply without revealing the excitement he was feeling. "Yes, Major Houlihan, I shall check back in a few moments then."

He returned to the Swamp to wait. Pierce was snoring softly from his corner of the big tent. Charles wished his phonograph was there so he could play something to irritate Hawkeye, but had to settle for picking through his most recent letters from home. He found the last one from his beloved sister Honoria and re-read it for the tenth time.

I wonder what Honoria would think of Margaret, he pondered as he read. Honoria was telling him about the latest debutante balls and cotillions of the Boston elite, the latest gossip of her sorority sisters and what Father had been accomplishing on the stock market. The usual fare, basically.

He laid back on his pillow, wondering where all this was going with Margaret. What would Mother and Father think of her, if they got serious and he asked her to accompany him to Boston, as his wife? Houlihan. He knew her ex-husband's family, Penobscott, hadn't thought too much of her family. Her ex-mother-in-law had commented that they'd had a driver named Houlihan. A not-so-subtle jab that angered Charles as he thought about it.

He snorted out loud about their own family, Penobscott. An assumed name, after a tribe of Indians in the New World. Perhaps Margaret had not realized that? His own families, Emerson and Winchester, had been in the United States since the 1600's. He was wondering if the Houlihans had been as well, and what Margaret's mother's lineage was.

Family and genealogy were very important in Charles' social circles and families, and he could not help but wonder these things.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the fragrance of lavendar reaching his olfactory lobes. He looked up and saw Margaret grinning at him through the netting of his tent. He motioned for her to come in.

She popped the door open and glanced at Pierce's sleeping form, grinning at him then turning to Charles.

She whispered, "It's all yours, Charles. I left you some hot water!"

She remained in the door as he squeezed so closely past her, wishing with all his heart that he could follow her to her tent right now. She was dressed in only a robe, her hair up in a towel. She smelled so fresh and clean that his nose twitched with excitement as he went by her. He didn't dare to linger through the doorway as he wanted so desperately to do.

He whispered quickly as he moved by, "I'll see you at six o'clock, Margaret!" He dared to pat her on the behind just before he stepped outside.

She giggled and headed in the opposite direction to her quarters. Six o'clock couldn't get there soon enough, they both thought.

Charles dressed quickly after he'd shaved and splashed on a bit of aftershave. Pierce hadn't stirred the entire time he'd been gone and returned, for which Charles was grateful. If the Captain had seen him shaving and primping, at 5:45 in the afternoon, he would've become suspicious, as was his nature. He never missed a chance to razz Winchester about getting dolled up in the evening, suspecting the Major might have a "hot date," as Hawkeye usually put it.

Charles left quickly, and decided to take a tour through Post-op, to be sure there was nothing that might call his attention away from Margaret and their brief time they could enjoy without causing suspicion.

He went to his patients, checking their charts and talking to the duty nurse about any possible concerns. He told BJ he was going to be meeting with Major Houlihan about the nurses' duty roster, and to come get him if his patients needed anything. He logically realized it would be better to be upfront about the meeting than resort to subterfuge.

"Right, Charles," BJ acknowledged from the doctors' desk. He watched his roommate leave, and smiled to himself. Freshly-shaven and with aftershave, going to talk to Margaret about the duty rosters? Hmmmmm...this might warrant closer observation, BJ thought.

Charles rapped gently on Margaret's door and walked in. He was expected, after all, wasn't he?

She was dressed in her usual green fatigues, her hair damp from her shower. She'd been toweling it dry when he came in and grinned at him, setting the towel down.

He took her by the shoulders and gently kissed her smiling mouth, leading her to the bed they'd abandoned earlier that afternoon when they were both so exhausted from work. He sat down, taking her onto his lap and wrapping his arm around her, kissing her neck, running his hand along thigh and hip.

He whispered to her, "Oh, Margaret, now that we have this understanding, I cannot take my eyes and hands off of you!"

"I know, Charles, I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything outside of the OR, thinking about where we might be going with this."

He pulled back to look her in the face. This would be as good a time as any to talk about their relationship, present and future.

"May I ask where you think we might be going, Margaret? I was wondering that myself while you were in the shower."

She shook her head. "I really don't know, Charles. Really. I'm very confused when it comes to what might be!" She looked down at him, rubbing her hands up his chest, over his broad shoulders. "To tell you the truth, I would prefer to wait and see, enjoy our moments now while we can. We've known each other for several months, yes, but we've only just begun on this part of our relationship."

That's the answer he'd wanted to hear. "I feel the same way, Margaret," he said, smiling. "In Korea, in the uncertainty of wartime, one can never know day to day what will be, after all."

"I'm glad we talked about this, though, Charles. Clearing the air is good."

"Margaret, speaking your mind has never been difficult for you, it's one reason I adore you so!" He kissed her before she could reply, feeling her smile as he did so.

She pulled away so she could speak. "Some men I've been with have a problem with that, Charles. I'm glad you don't!"

"I've known you long enough to know what to expect, Margaret. We've had our...disagreements before, and I am certain we will again, no fear of that!"

She laughed, knowing he was absolutely correct. She was glad he hadn't expected her to suddenly transform overnight into someone he wanted her to be. He accepted her for what and who she was, as she did with him. She knew his faults, but also knew his many good qualities.

Her manner became serious. "Charles, there is one thing I need to talk about with you."

"And what is that, my sweet?"

"Us. The 4077th. Whether we want to sneak around or just be bluntly open and honest about it."

She brought up an excellent point. "I was wondering that as well, Margaret. For now, I'd prefer to continue our clandestine meetings, if only to keep Pierce and Hunnicutt at bay a little longer. You KNOW what they're going to do when they find out!"

"When" they find out, he'd said. So he doesn't expect to keep it hidden forever, she thought. Good. She'd had enough of that with Frank Burns!

She laughed in anticipation of the two doctors' reactions. "They're going to FREAK, Charles!"

He laughed too, envisioning what it was going to be like. He got a sinister twinkle in his eye. "That day, when we reveal our relationship, has great potential, Margaret, to play it for everything it's worth! Like when you told them the CO needed to see them."

"If it's anything like when I told everyone I was engaged to be married, they'll razz us for a short time then accept it, and move on. We'll just have to grin and bear it, Charles!"

"Yes, but let us see if we can get as much entertainment out of it as possible, Margaret!"

He ended the discussion by lying back, pulling her onto him once more. They kissed and fondled for a time, knowing they only had a short time before he'd have to leave, to avoid suspicion.

He snuggled his lips near her ear, and whispered, "Margaret, I at least want to wait until we've made love for the first time, before anyone else knows about you and me."

Her heart skipped when he'd said that. Make love. Oh, how she wanted to, so badly, but she knew they could not. Not until they had more than an hour alone, without the possibility of disturbance. As acting CO, anyone could come by this very second to get his attention on some urgent matter. This would definitely not be the time.

"Charles, I wasn't lying when I wrote that on my clipboard earlier! I want you in the worst way," she said, kissing him around the mouth, jawline and throat. "But we need to wait for the right moment, when we can be together undisturbed."

"Yes, Margaret, of course. It will be a moment to revel in, and cherish forever." He sighed against her, reluctantly sitting up.

He put his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him one more time to kiss her soundly. "I fear I must leave now, Margaret, to keep the tongues from wagging too much. I'm on at Midnight again, are you?"

"Seeing as I am the Head Nurse, and I have an inside with the CO...I would say 'yes,' I'm on!"

He laughed as he stood to leave, straightening himself out one more time. "Perhaps you SHOULD work on that duty roster, Margaret?"

"Yes, Major Winchester."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine. The Officer's Club.

Charles returned to the CO's office to see what needed his attention. One more day, he thought, and the Colonel's back.

He called into the outer office. "Klinger, when is the Colonel expected?"

"I need to leave here at 1400 tomorrow afternoon to get him, he said."

"Very well." He turned back to the pile of paperwork that had already seemed to grow exponentially since he'd signed so many yesterday and this morning.

Before he knew it, two hours had gone by. His stomach grumbled in protest, having been denied dinner, unappealing as it had been.

He checked his watch. 21:34. Not enough time to nap before his duty shift. Perhaps he'd go to the Officer's Club, or to Rosie's for something to do in the meantime. He wondered where Margaret was, what she was doing. He knew they couldn't be together 24 hours in the day, of course!

Margaret came into the office, papers in hand.

"Ah, yes, Major Houlihan. I was just thinking about you. Did you finalize the Nurses' duty roster, then?"

She threw the papers on the desk, pretending to be angry with Winchester. "THERE! In triplicate! You happy?" She looked behind her, toward the door to Klinger's outer office, and back to Charles.

She leaned on the desk as if prepared to yell in the other Major's face, and whispered, "It was all I could do to concentrate, Charles! Let's go do something before our shift."

He looked over the roster quickly. He didn't really care what it said, actually; he trusted Margaret to have everything in order, as always. He signed the bottoms of the three copies, approving the roster.

He stood and walked passed her, daring to give her a quick kiss on the cheek as he went by to Klinger's office.

"Max, if you could post this, I would appreciate it. Here are the two file copies as well." He turned to Margaret. "Major, would you care to join me in the Officer's Club before our duty shift, now that your homework is done?"

"Sure, I could use a beer after a taskmaster like you hanging over my shoulder! I can't WAIT till Colonel Potter gets back! He and I at least have an understanding when it comes to rosters."

They walked toward the O-Club. Charles glanced at the Swamp and saw Hawkeye's lamp on. He was inside, reading the latest letter from Crabapple Cove. He looked up to see Charles and Margaret walking by.

"Charles!" he yelled through the netting.

Charles went to his quarters, going inside to talk to Pierce, Margaret following him in.

"What is it, Pierce?" Charles looked at his bunk for his own mail, pleased to see a new letter from Honoria. She faithfully wrote to him, at least twice a week. Sometimes her letters were boring, but he didn't care, it was always wonderful to hear from his little sister.

He held up the letter. "Is this what you were calling me for?"

"Yeah, figured you didn't want to miss reading it before your shift."

He was torn between reading it that instant, or saving it for later and having more time with Margaret. He put the letter in his pocket for later. During his duty shift was plenty of time, after all.

"That was considerate of you, Pierce, thank you. Margaret and I were going to the Officer's Club, would you care to join us?"

Hawkeye sat up in his bunk, putting on his boots. "Sure, give me a chance to change my shirt, run a comb through my hair and brush my teeth, and I'll be ready."

He got those tasks done quickly and left with the two Majors.

A lot of other people thought the O-Club was a good idea as well, and the place was jumping. Someone had jerry-rigged the jukebox to play free music, so they weren't subjected to Father Mulcahey's questionable musical talent at the piano. A few brave couples were cutting a rug to some Big Band music.

The three went to the bar and ordered beer. Charles and Margaret couldn't have anything stronger before their duty shift; the light watery beer would not give them anything more than a buzz. Charles nibbled on the dry pretzels and salty peanuts to give his grumbling stomach something to think about before he snagged some treats from his food coffers in the CO's office.

Hawkeye took out his letter from his father that he'd slipped into his uniform pocket. He always carried the latest letter around with him, ready to read it when he had a couple of free seconds to rub together.

"Dad and my cousins went fishing, he said, caught some big ones!"

"Hmmm mmmm," Charles said absently, watching the couples having so much fun dancing. Glenn Miller. Not bad at all, Charles thought. Not of the classical genre, but good music regardless. Excellent to dance to, he knew.

"Margaret, would you care to dance on the next song? Glenn Miller is something I actually enjoyed in my younger days."

"Wow, I never knew you liked Big Band! I thought you were strictly classical!"

"The usual popular music of the day rarely appeals to me, but Miller was extraordinarily talented, blending such instruments as he did to make a fine ensemble. I remember the day we'd heard his plane had gone missing, most likely shot down over the English Channel. My sister was heartbroken."

Yet another illusion about Winchester shattered, Margaret realized.

"Sure, Charles, sounds fun. I could use a little exercise, and Miller's always a great workout!"

They swigged their beer, waiting for the next song. Margaret's face lit up when she heard the opening strains.

"In the Mood! Yea!" She grabbed Charles' hand and led him out to the floor, both of them laughing. "Let's see if you can keep up with me, Winchester!"

He raised his eyebrows at the challenge. Margaret was in for another surprise!

The other people, when they saw the two Majors enter the dance area, backed off to watch this most unusual spectacle. Major WINCHESTER dancing to Big Band?

He grabbed her hand, expertly leading her around the floor to the very lively beat, the both of them mixing a variety of dancesteps they knew. He put his hands around her waist and flung her around, catching her before she could stumble. She couldn't believe it, he was leading so well to GLENN MILLER? He spinned her off his arm in a pirhouette then pulled her back with the other hand. She's a delight to dance with, he thought. He was smiling at her happy and lively smile and eyes, enjoying this rare moment immensely.

He slowly spun her around him during the quiet and the very quiet parts, knowing the finale was moments away...when the trombone kicked in, picking up the beat, he threw her under his legs and back up again, lifting her into the air then bouncing her down on the ground. She was ready for the maneuver and prepared for him to lead her toward the end of the tune. By the time the last note faded away, they were both breathing very hard from their exertions, laughing and gasping as they wrapped their arms over one another.

The crowd cheered when they'd finished, and the two dancers bowed in appreciation.

"Charles, that was a BLAST, I never knew you had it in you!"

"A Winchester is a man of many talents, Margaret!"

The next song began, another Miller tune. This was the opposite of "In the Mood." A very gentle and soothing piece, "String of Pearls."

Charles held his hand out to Margaret. "I hope you'll indulge me in one more dance, Margaret!"

"Of course," she said, smiling up into his glowing eyes. He pulled her into his arms, not too close, but enough to feel her warmth against him.

After the exertion of the previous tune, Margaret began to relax, leaning more and more into Charles. He'd released her hand to wrap both arms over her shoulders and neck, and she put her arms around his torso. She put her head against his chest, closing her eyes, breathing in the scent of him. The warmth from his body and the feel of him pressed against her made her escape to another realm, a private realm of Charles and music. She'd forgotten everyone in the room, unaware of the surprised looks on the observers.

Charles briefly held Margaret at a discreet, respectable distance, his right hand holding her left. Within seconds, feeling her move nearer to him to close the gap, he'd released her hand to wrap his long arms over her, lowering his head to rest alongside her own. He closed his eyes, breathing in the fragrance of her hair, the freshness of the lavendar splash she'd applied after her shower. They swayed together during the long slow song, lost in one another's arms and presence. Somewhere in Charles' mind he was thinking, I wonder how this looks to everyone! The rest of him surely did not care, however. He was completely gone when Margaret had wrapped her arms around him, gripping his back once more as he so enjoyed.

A tapping on his shoulder broke him out of his reverie.

"Um, Charles? The song's over, you know," Pierce said, smiling at him.

The two separated quickly, blushing, looking around. "Oh, yes, indeed. I knew that."

"Uh huh." Pierce eyed both of them, wondering at what he'd witnessed. It was most...interesting and revealing.

Charles ignored him and led Margaret back to the bar, where they ordered two more beers. Hawkeye had to talk to BJ. The two Majors didn't notice Pierce's discreet exit.

Margaret saw that the spot in the far corner was free, and ran to it, calling to Charles to come sit down before someone else snagged the favorite table. They sat and talked quietly, still disregarding all of the curious glances from the unit personnel enjoying the quiet evening.

A few minutes later, Hawkeye returned with BJ. They went to the bar and Hawkeye ordered a Scotch, BJ ordered a ginger ale. They leaned back against the bar, plainly watching Charles and Margaret. The two Majors seemed unaware of the scrutiny of the two at the bar, only having eyes for one another.

It was like they'd reached some silent agreement: Let's not hide this, but let's not flaunt either. Do what comes naturally and see what happens. They weren't so brash as to start kissing or holding hands. They were merely talking, occasionally laughing and smiling at one another's jokes and witticisms.

BJ said, "My God, Hawk, you're right. Look at 'em!"

"You should've seen them DANCING, Beej! It was amazing! I never knew Charles had it in him."

"Today, before he went to work on the nurses' duty roster with Margaret, Charles came through post op, freshly showered and shaved and wearing his expensive aftershave. I was wondering why on earth he'd be doing that, just to talk to Margaret."

"Really? Hmmm... methinks there's something rotten in the state of Oijongbu, Beej."

"Indeed, Holmes, indeed. This is going to be FUN, Hawk!"

As if he'd heard his roommates comment, Charles abruptly turned his gaze directly on his fellow Swamprats, and winked, the challenge given and received. Hawkeye and BJ laughed in acknowledgement. So Charles was aware that the two had been observing for a few moments after all!

Hawkeye stood up, picking up his drink. "Watch this, Beej."

He sauntered through the crowd, aiming for Charles and Margaret. He was interrupted by a commotion at the door.

Klinger was standing on tip-toes, looking around, shouting "Major Winchester! Captain Pierce!"

Hawkeye waved his arm. "Over here, Klinger!"

Klinger spied him and Winchester in the far corner and pushed his way through the crowd. "Captain, Major, come quick! Colonel Flagg's here and he's got four Chinese prisoners of war!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten. Charles.

Winchester, Houlihan, Hunnicutt, Pierce and Klinger emerged from the Officers Club. Klinger led the way to where Flagg and his four POWs had gathered, outside of the camp boundary. BJ could not follow, but ran back to his duty station in Post-op.

Flagg held an M-16 on the four men, maintaining a discreet distance from them as he saw the MASH personnel run up to them.

"No further, Major! These four are extremely dangerous! I need to secure them somewhere until morning, when my people can send a bus to collect them."

Charles slowly approached, looking the prisoners over as well as he could and keeping an eye on Flagg. He was touchy in normal circumstances; Charles had no idea how Flagg would be in something like this.

"Yes, Colonel, the enlisted personnel should be able to arrange the VIP tent adequate to your needs tonight," he said softly, not wanting to alarm either the prisoners nor Flagg.

Margaret approached as well, Pierce and Klinger letting her lead the way.

Charles heard Margaret come up along his right side, expecting her to hang back and behind him, let him do the speaking. He was shocked to see her continue forward toward Flagg and the four Chinese men.

Before he could say a word, they heard two shots ring out from the brush to their left. They didn't even have time to react when they saw Flagg fall to his knees, clutching his right arm, dropping his M-16. The prisoner closest to him spun around, grabbed the sidearm from Flagg's holster, turned and aimed at the American woman facing them.

"NO!" Charles screamed as he saw the barrel of the gun aim directly at Margaret. He flung himself in front of her, simultaneously pushing her to the ground, as two more gunshots split the night. Flagg recovered enough to grab the gunman around the knees, dragging him to the ground and punching him into unconsciousness.

The three other prisoners had used the distraction to run into the brush from which the initial gunshots had come, leaving their comrade unconscious on the ground, Flagg staggering to stand up, and Margaret dazed from being tackled to the ground.

And Charles.

"Oh my GOD! CHARLES!" Hawkeye got to him first. "Klinger, get two stretchers and my medical kit! Tell BJ to get out here and check on Flagg! Get OR ready! Check the blood supply for B-positive!"

Hawkeye tore Winchester's shirt open, doing a quick assessment of the wounds. Margaret shook herself out of her daze and crawled to them.

"Charles, Charles," Pierce recited to himself, checking his roommate and friend over. Charles' breathing was extremely labored. Hawkeye could hear the dreaded sucking sound of a pneumothorax, the air entering and exiting through a hole in the upper right chest.

He looked down, saw blood oozing out of the upper abdomen. His other fear was realized: a bullet had hit the liver, most likely the portal vein. Fortunately the blood was oozing, not gushing.

He looked around desperately. Where WERE they?

Margaret tore off her uniform shirt and ripped it open, making two compresses. It was a clean uniform, and she'd showered recently, so it was better than nothing. Not sterile but it was all they could do until the medical kit and proper bandages arrived. She pressed one hard against the upper chest wound and Hawkeye pressed the other against the liver entry wound, not so hard as to interfere with the labored motions of the diaphragm as Charles struggled for breath.

He looked up to see BJ, Klinger, several orderlies and most of the nurses running up. Father Mulcahy was with them, and he ran to Flagg and the unconscious prisoner with BJ.

Hawkeye and Margaret maintained pressure on Charles' injuries as the orderlies lifted him to the stretcher, and all four ran to the Pre-op ward to prepare for emergency surgery. Nurse Kellye checked his vitals as Margaret and Hawkeye scrubbed and gowned, wishing they could hurry the process, knowing they could not. To not scrub thoroughly presented a further risk of infection, and Charles would be lucky to live without that added problem!

"Damn, Margaret, HE is our thoracic surgeon!"

Margaret was not able to speak. All she could do right now was react, follow the procedures that she'd done a thousand times and that were part of her muscles, nerves and hands. She would have later to collapse into hysterics, which is what she wanted so desperately to do.

Pierce heard BJ's arrival with his patient, who was protesting loudly that he was perfectly capable of walking.

"BJ! Get in here and SCRUB! If he's so capable, the HELL with him, let him go suture himself!" Hawkeye yelled angrily. "KLINGER! Call Battalion Aide, tell them we need Potter here NOW! If you have to, YOU go get him! Or tell them to send him by chopper! Kellye, how're his stats?"

She yelled from the Pre-op ward, "Pressure is 88 over 63, pulse is 110 and thready, temp is 97.1!"

"Oh, God, he's going into shock." He scrubbed faster and harder. Almost done!

BJ came in and began scrubbing as well. "Pneumothorax?"

"Yeah, you take that, I'll be on the liver. KELLYE!" he yelled again.

"Doctor?"

"How's the B-positive?"

"It should be enough, Doctor, but we have donors! I'll send someone to start rounding them up."

Father Mulcahy entered the scrub area, hoping he could help in some way. "Hawkeye, Klinger and I are both Charles' blood type! I haven't donated yet this week, I can give at least two pints."

"Two, no more, Father. Drink a LOT of water later, don't forget! And thank you! Get Klinger in here too so we can tap him. Go check the rolls and see who else is B-positive."

"Right!" he yelled, and he was off.

Hawkeye looked at Margaret as they finished scrubbing. She helped him into his gown, mask and gloves, and got her own suit on as well as he left her.

BJ watched the two leave, and Nurse Baker enter, preparing his own gloves, gown and mask. It was going to be a LONG night!

Two hours later, the two surgeons were still in the OR. One of the nurses had tended to Flagg's wounds. Father Mulcahy, as the ranking officer while the others were in surgery, had arranged for the lone prisoner to be held in the VIP tent, two sentries on both sides, Flagg in the tent.

Mulcahy had organized the donors who were B-positive, 23 all told, all of whom anxiously stood in line to donate as much as they humanly could. Some were disappointed as records revealed they'd already donated the maximum they could that week. Father Mulcahy felt very bad turning them away, but thanked them profusely for their offers and asked them to pray for Dr. Winchester instead.

In the end, they had collected 28 pints of blood. Surely THAT would be enough, he thought, amazed at the quantity. Major Winchester WILL be pleased when he learned how the unit had rallied around him. Mulcahy had to think positively, and sent another prayer up for good measure.

He'd learned, over time, how serious liver injuries could be. The liver was a master organ and filtered the blood supply. All blood passed through the liver from the intestines, via the portal vein. It was also a key organ in body temperature maintenance. It had so many functions that biologists did not know everything it did. Fortunately, it could re-generate itself, so if parts of the liver were dissected there was a distinct possibility it would grow the missing portions back.

The priest went to the OR window, watching the surgeons operating on their friend. How difficult it must be, to operate on someone you know so well and care for so much as a friend. Mulcahy knew that BJ and Hawkeye, and Charles, often sniped at one another and traded barbs, but this incident was proving well how the Swamprats felt about one another.

He heard the sound of a chopper coming in. Oh, Lord, please let it be Colonel Potter, not WOUNDED!

He joined Klinger as they ran to a jeep to drive to the pad. As they arrived, the chopper was leaving and Colonel Potter was ready to make his way down the dirt road, in the dark.

"Klinger! How is he?" He asked as he threw his gear in back, where Mulcahy had climbed, relinquishing the front seat to Potter.

"Been in surgery for over two hours, sir!"

"What's wrong with him?"

Mulcahy piped in. "Pneumothorax in the upper right quadrant, bullet wound to the liver, probably the portal vein. BJ is on the pneumothorax and Hawkeye is on the liver. His vitals initially indicated he was going into shock, although I don't know how he's been doing this last hour or so."

Potter turned to look at the Father, impressed with the summation. "You've been listening, Padre. Anything else?"

"Yes, sir. Colonel Flagg has a single POW now. The other three escaped into the brush when first the Colonel and then Dr. Winchester were shot. Flagg's got two gun wounds to the upper arm that one of the nurses took care of. Hawkeye refused to let BJ waste his time on the Colonel when Charles needed them both. I organized the donors for B-positive, myself and Klinger here included, and we collected 28 units of blood all together."

Potter nodded his head, even more impressed. "Excellent, Father. So you are basically in charge?"

Mulcahy smiled shyly. "Yes, sir, but I consider myself relieved. Very relieved. It's good to have you back, Colonel. I was dreading a wave of wounded coming in with all three surgeons unavailable!"

"Yes, thank the Lord for that at least!"

"I already have, sir!"

Potter pointed. "Park there, Klinger, I'm going to scrub in!"

Hawkeye looked up as he saw Colonel Potter come in, gowned and scrubbed and ready to help. "Welcome back, Colonel! I wish it could have been under better circumstances."

"So do I, Pierce. How's he doing?"

Hawkeye ran down the list of problems and how Charles was faring as far as pressure and pulse.

BJ had repaired the pneumothorax, but was reluctant to leave his friends. He would stick it out as long as Hawkeye and Charles would. He felt sick inside, seeing Charles' pale and still face, the mask covering him.

Kellye had insisted on being the anesthetist while Margaret and Baker assisted the two doctors.

All Potter and BJ could do now was observe and be ready if there were any additional problems. They both leaned in as far as they could without blocking Hawkeye's light or vision.

"Good, Hawkeye. Looks like you're ready to wrap it up," Potter said. "Kellye?"

"Pressure's holding at 112 over 73, Doctor, pulse is steady and strong at 76, temperature's back to normal."

"Excellent. The Father said he'd started going into shock."

Hawkeye said, "Yes, initially. It was pretty dicey at first. You can see my op report. Margaret, I'm ready to close."

"Yes, Doctor," she said, handing him the suture and needle. What a night, she thought.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven. Post-Op and Recovery.

Margaret sat at Charles' bedside, holding his hand, checking his vitals and IV drips every so often. She had insisted on remaining at his side, and that she'd be his Nurse. Hawkeye designated himself as Winchester's physician. BJ and Potter insisted on hanging about as well, waiting for Charles to come out of the anesthesia.

Many other MASH personnel had found excuses to pop by, hoping for the latest news. Colonel Potter had to finally put an end to it, as they had other patients in the Post-op ward from their earlier seige of wounded.

He shoo'ed the latest group of woolgatherers out. "Go on, now, people. I'm sure Major Winchester would be gratified with your concern, but we have other patients to attend to as well. Father Mulcahy will have the very latest information on Winchester's condition, so talk to him if you want to know. We'll be sure to let you know when the Major can have DAYTIME visitors!"

Margaret watched the crowd leave. She had not spoken aside from what was absolutely necessary in her role as a Nurse, nor had she given herself the freedom to cry. She would wait until he was conscious and clear-headed, and she could find some privacy.

She took out the little box of the personal effects he'd had on him when the shooting occured. She picked up the unopened letter from Honoria.

She looked up at Mulcahy. "Father, did you call his family?"

"Yes, Major, I took care of it."

"Thank you," she said, taking Charles' hand once more.

None in the Post-op ward had missed her unusual attentiveness and the hand-holding. Hawkeye watched her, remembering the past evening when she and Charles had been having so much fun on the dancefloor, and after when they'd been sitting and talking so intimately at the corner table.

He sat down beside her. "Margaret? Are you okay?"

She continued to stare at Charles' pale face, pulling his hand closer to her. She finally answered. "No. No, I'm not okay, Pierce."

He didn't say anything for a moment. "He's my friend, too, Margaret."

"I know," she whispered. She was very close to losing it.

Hawkeye sat vigil with Margaret for a few minutes more, neither of them speaking. He finally spoke. "He should be coming out of it within the half-hour, Margaret."

"I plan on being here when he comes to."

He stood and patted her on the shoulder. "I know."

The half-hour had come and gone, and there was no sign of movement or consciousness in Winchester. Pierce checked the bandages and reviewed the notes Margaret had been faithfully maintaining in Charles' chart.

Hawkeye was at a loss as to why the patient had not woken up yet.

They ran a battery of tests, including wheeling the unconscious man into X-ray to see if there'd been any brain or spinal injury, and nothing was out of the ordinary. He simply could not or would not wake up.

After a couple hours of this, Hawkeye finally insisted to Margaret that she take a break. "Hit the latrine, go grab some coffee and food, stretch a little. It could be several more hours, maybe even days, Margaret. You know that."

He hated being so harsh, but he and she both knew the drill when a patient wouldn't come out of anesthesia.

She knew he was right. She leaned forward, putting her mouth directly on Charles' ear, and whispered, "I'll be back in just a few moments, Charles."

She didn't dare kiss him right in front of Hawkeye, who was watching the entire time. She stood and stretched, checking the big clock on the wall. 09:45! She hadn't realized morning had started so long ago.

She stretched and yawned as she stepped out into the mild morning sun, breathing in the fresh air. She did what she could to freshen up and wake up, and returned within ten minutes.

"Any change, Doctor?"

"No, Margaret."

She sat down and took Charles' hand once more. She leaned forward, carefully not pressing on him, and rubbed his brow and his cheek, speaking softly to him.

"Charles, I know you're in there, that you can hear me. Your surgery went well. BJ and Hawkeye were there, and Colonel Potter as well before they were done. Everyone's worried, Charles. You'd be amazed at how the whole camp's reacted to this. The Father had to turn people away who wanted to donate blood for you! He called your family in Boston, as well."

No response.

She continued speaking softly to him, about their brief time together as more than friends, how much fun she had on the dance floor with him, the various goings-on at the 4077th.

Margaret was correct: Charles could indeed hear her. He was in a state of limbo; not quite conscious, but not unconscious either. It was similar to the state of sleep where your mind is alert, but your body is reluctant to respond to commands from the brain.

His initial reaction when he'd heard her voice, coming out of the black void of anesthesia, was beyond joy. She's alive! he thought. He'd gone down, not knowing if his effort had succeeded or not. To come to almost-consciousness with her voice the first he'd heard was a joy as well.

His limbs and head felt heavy and lethargic, and he couldn't seem to move any part of him, only lie there.

He'd heard Margaret and Pierce talking.

"He's my friend, too, Margaret."

"I know."

He heard her whisper that she'd be gone for just a few moments, and would be back. He wanted to squeeze her hand, to keep her there, but could not. He smiled inside when he heard her return, knowing she was leaning forward and whispering.

The image in his mind was odd. He was sitting in a comfortable chair, listening to Margaret. She mentioned the mail from his sister. Ah, his letter. From Honoria. He had not had a chance to read it, foolishly thinking he'd had plenty of time to read it during his duty shift. He'd realized his error: assuming anything in this hellhole called the Korean Conflict. How precious each moment is, he thought.

He wished Margaret would open the letter from Honoria and read it to him, while he was able to picture things so well. It would be like his darling sister was there with him, talking to him. He so missed his sister. She and Margaret will adore one another, he hoped.

Will? Is he already planning on introducing Margaret to Honoria? It seemed natural to do so. Precious moments. He did not want to waste one single moment with Margaret.

What happened served to prove one thing to him: He wanted Margaret in his life. Forever.

He heard Father Mulcahy talking to Margaret.

"Any response, Major?" he asked kindly, sitting next to her.

"No, Father. I looked through his effects, and found this." She handed him the letter from Honoria. "He'd just received it today...well, yesterday, and was saving it to read while on duty. But then, he...he..."

She faltered, not able to articulate it.

"Perhaps you should read it to him. You know how he loves his sister Honoria."

YES! Charles thought, concentrating on the hand Margaret was holding. It was a Herculean effort, but he managed to wrap thumb and fingers around her own fingers that were gripping him.

"Father, he squeezed my hand when you said that! HAWKEYE!"

Pierce came running. "What is it?"

"He squeezed my hand when the Father mentioned his sister Honoria and the letter!"

She leaned to Charles' ear and whispered, "I felt that, sweetheart. Now, WAKE UP, Mister!"

He could not help but smile at her command. It was like the initial motion of hand-squeezing had reminded the reticular formation of his brain, the communicating center between cerebrum and cerebellum, of what to do with his voluntary muscles.

He awoke in stages. Hand first, then smile. Work on the eyelids. They opened, and he saw her lovely smile and sparkling blue eyes once more. He gasped with such joy that he startled the observers.

Hawkeye leaned down. "Charles? Are you all right? In pain?"

"Happy. My sweet." he managed to say weakly.

She hugged his hand and arm to her breast, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Margaret."

Not moving, she said aloud, "Yes, Charles?"

He stunned everyone present, and didn't give a damn who heard what. "I love you."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12. Recuperating with Margaret.

That was it. Margaret lost it, utterly and completely. She carefully put her arm across his chest, leaving her head on his shoulder, and sobbed openly in relief and love.

"Margaret, Margaret, please. It's all right, really. I will be fine, now that I know you are well, my love. Besides..." he paused.

The pause broke her out of her sobbing and she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes red and swollen. "Besides?"

"We are missing the entertainment! Look at Pierce and Hunnicutt!" He smiled weakly at his two stunned bunkmates. Charles didn't want to miss a single reaction to the three little words he'd told Margaret moments ago.

His voice strengthened as the humor and laughter wanted to bubble forth. "I won, you two. You wouldn't dare tease Margaret and me now, would you?"

BJ and Hawkeye looked at each other, then back to Charles, with Margaret practically lying on top of him. "I guess he's got us, Hawk."

"He probably planned the whole thing just so he could get us in a position where we couldn't razz them about it, ya think, Beej?"

"Most definitely."

Over the next few days, Charles' health improved dramatically. Hawkeye attributed it to this new understanding between the Two Majors, as everyone was refering to them now, after Charles' confession to Margaret in Post-Op. Charles most definitely had the will and desire to get better as soon as possible, to savor every moment with Margaret.

She and Kellye had lived up to their vow to get the Swamp cleaned. Charles couldn't believe it when he saw it. His own area of it was always immaculate and well-organized, but the two nurses had insisted to Pierce and Hunnicutt that the whole tent would be cleaned thoroughly.

"This must be killing Pierce and Hunnicutt, Margaret," he said as they wheeled him to his bunk.

"Tough. They can go back to their usual grunge once you're fully healed. We don't want sepsis on top of everything else for you!"

Klinger had trailed behind, ready to help the Major to his bunk if necessary. He came forward. "Need a hand now, Major?"

"Actually, Max, I think I can do it. Let me see first. I won't get any better if I do not try."

The pain in his abdomen, over the liver injury, was not substantial but it was a definite sign to him that he had to take it easy a bit longer. He pulled himself forward, then let his strong legs do most of the lifting. It didn't take him long to carefully lay himself down on his familiar bunk. He never thought he'd be so happy to be in the Swamp!

"Very good, Major!" Klinger cheered. He looked at Margaret. "Let me know if I can get you or him anything else."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness, and his obvious hint that he knew they wanted to be alone. "Thank you, Sargeant. I will."

He left, and the two were alone at last.

Hawkeye found them both an hour later, asleep side-by-side and smiling as they dreamed. He checked Charles' pulse, looked around the bandages for any seepage or redness, and left them alone to sleep.

Charles and Margaret were awakened by the sound of approaching laughter and general mayhem. Margaret lifted her head to see what the commotion was, and a small gang of people was coming right for them.

BJ burst through the door of his tent. "Rise and shine, Charles! Poker night! You're invited, seeing as you don't have a choice!"

Charles groaned against Margaret. He had to get out. "Margaret, perhaps we should retire to your quarters?"

Her eyes lit up. "That'd be wonderful, Charles!" It felt so good to say, not having to hide anything any longer.

Charles turned to sit up, groaning a bit louder. BJ and Hawkeye were there instantly.

"Charles, are you sure? Did you want me to get the wheelchair again?"

"NO! I have to do this. I'm perfectly capable of walking now that the pain medication has worn off. I must do this myself, Pierce."

Hawkeye was reluctant, but knew Charles would remain stubborn. Pierce looked at Houlihan from behind Charles' back, indicating she should surreptiously help him.

Once he'd risen to his feet and did not need to bend at the abdomen, he felt immensely better and walked with an almost normal gait. Margaret smiled at those in the Swamp as the two left.

Hawkeye yelled, "No hanky panky, Winchester! I MEAN it! You'll do yourself more serious hurt!"

Charles waved behind him, essentially telling Pierce to shut up, he knew. Margaret wasn't as subtle. She turned and stuck her tongue out at Hawkeye.

"Hawk, they're not stupid, he just wants to lie down in her real double-bed, not a cot. And get away from us and Rizzo's cigar."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He turned to the table. "Who's dealing?"

By the time they'd arrived at Margaret's quarters, Charles was shaking from exertion. She led him through the door and told him to wait while she turned on the lights, then she guided him to lie down.

"I'm going to run back to the Swamp and get you a few things, sweetheart," she said, kissing him gently on the lips. She was out the door before he could tell her what he'd like.

Margaret returned a few minutes later, with Klinger in tow. The Company Clerk had the records, phonograph, books and food basket Charles had left in the CO's office. Margaret had his robe, slippers, pillows and his stack of letters from home she'd spied on his cabinet.

"Set those over there, Klinger, and thank you again for your help!"

"Any time, Majors!"

Now they were truly alone at last, not having to worry about roommates showing up. Charles stretched on the bigger bed, relishing the freedom to move without restraint. He turned onto his left side to face Margaret as she lay down next to him.

With the lamp light behind her, she took on a glow as the light illuminated her platinum hair. "My angel," Charles said, running his fingers through her soft hair. "You're glowing!"

She rewarded him with that beautiful smile he loved so much. "I'm happy," she said simply.

"As am I," he said, taking her hand and kissing her fingers as he'd done before.

He's got such a beautiful mouth, she thought, watching him. The finger-kissing was starting to affect her. She moved as closely as she could to him so they could kiss. He put his right arm over her, resting it on her to keep from straining the muscles and tissue that had been violated by the bullet to his upper chest.

The first kiss they'd enjoyed since that fateful evening started out soft and slow, but soon progressed into deep and passionate. Charles was holding Margaret to him with his left arm, and running his right hand up and down the length of her.

He suddenly pulled back from her, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling of her tent.

"Margaret, we must stop. The muscles in my...abdomen...are not quite ready for this."

She sagged against him, disappointed. She knew they couldn't make love, but she was hoping they could enjoy one another in other ways in the meantime.

"I thought simple kissing would be fine, Charles," she said into his chest.

She felt his chuckle. "Margaret, my love, there are no simple kisses with you. Merely lying here by your side is enough to affect me, running my hand up and down as I was, kissing that wonderful mouth, and the way you..." He paused. He'd best not go there! "I think it would be wise if we do something else, Margaret."

"Let's be together, that's enough for me."

A week later, Margaret no longer thought it was enough. It was getting extremely frustrating to lie next to him almost every night, and not be able to touch and fondle, kiss and nibble as she longed to do. He had not OFFICIALLY moved in, both thinking that would be most inappropriate, but he spent most evenings there.

They'd listen to music, read his books, play gin rummy, anything but physical contact or, worse and worse, making love.

Margaret wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13. That First Magical Night.

Margaret did not realize it, but Charles was finding remaining apart increasingly frustrating as well. As he was most adept at doing, he kept these feelings inside. He wanted to be absolutely sure that their first time together could be free and unhindered; if he could not be with her completely, then he was willing to wait.

"Margaret, I am simply not ready yet. You know how serious such injury can be!"

He was right, of course. He was always right.

She sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "You've been doing your exercises?"

"Yes, Nurse Houlihan."

"Talked to Pierce lately?"

"He feels I'm not ready for surgery yet. And if I am not ready for surgery, well..."

She sighed again. "All right."

The next evening, he and Margaret were playing cards at her little table. She got up to get more of the chilled Zinfandel.

She came up behind him and reached over his shoulder to pour him a glass. As she leaned forward, he felt her pressed up against him.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her, how he longed to touch her, explore her. She was taking her time pouring the wine, lingering against him. It felt so good to feel his warmth on her, she didn't want it to end.

He grasped the bottle and her hand as she started to pull back and held her there, refusing to release her. She relaxed against his back and shoulder, letting him restrain her hand, and began to slowly nibble and kiss his neck, below and behind his ear, the spot she'd hit before when he'd put a stop to it.

She hooked her left hand over his other shoulder, rubbing her hand on his chest. She moved her hand up to his neck, holding him to her. She wasn't going to let him excuse his way out THIS time!

Charles was in no hurry to pull away from Margaret's closeness. It felt so incredible that even if the pain and cramping began, it would be worth it. So far, he felt fine inside. Then she started nibbling on his neck.

Oh, God, he thought, waiting for that initial reaction and response in his groin and gut. It didn't take much from her to get him going, after all, being so close, her mouth and tongue on him. He was pleasantly surprised that there was no pain. None at all.

He'd see if they could progress to the point they'd been before the night they'd danced at the Officer's Club (he didn't want to think about it being the night he got shot). He took her hand off the bottle of wine, and began kissing and nibbling. She had such beautiful and delicate hands, but so strong and capable too. She moaned when his lips first touched, then continued her own magic on his neck and ear.

He gasped as she took his earlobe in her mouth, sucking on it, teasing and tweaking it with her tongue.

By this point, she'd retrieved her hand and both hands were pressing against his chest to push him even closer into her. He was sitting back and letting her do the work, his eyes closed, glorying in the sensation.

She ran her hands down his front, over his abdomen, feeling the muscles underneath tense up. She waited for him to say something, that it was painful, but he still had his eyes closed, head falling back, a look of rapture on his face. He's certainly not in pain, she thought.

When he felt her hands move down toward his waist, Charles knew that if there was no pain from the inner abdominal and inguinal muscles, that he'd be fine. And there wasn't.

He stood to face Margaret, gripping her small hands, looking down into her glowing eyes.

"Margaret, that didn't hurt! Not at all!"

"Does this mean...?" she asked hopefully.

He pulled her into his arms, lifted her off the ground and swung her around. "Those exercises have surely helped! This doesn't hurt either!"

He set her down, and they stood and looked at each other for an eternity. It was like a switch had been flipped. Margaret flung herself into Charles' arms, pushing him down to the bed.

All of the tension could finally be released, and they went at one another almost violently, hands and mouths everywhere. They kissed and touched one another for a time, and Charles abruptly threw her off him, onto the bed, and stood up, looking down at her.

She was panting from their exertions, chest heaving, looking at him like she was ready to pounce on him again.

"What?" she asked, confused. Isn't this what they'd been waiting for, after all?

He continued to stare at her, looking her up and down, smiling.

He reached his hand out to her and gently pulled her standing. He was so much taller than she, that he had to bend his head down to be face-to-face with her.

"Margaret, I want you more than I have wanted anyone in the world. But we must slow down, at least this first time, so we may enjoy the journey!"

She pulled his mouth to hers, his lips swollen from their passion. "You're right. How... do... you..." She stopped. He was showing her how he was going to start making love to her.

He turned her facing away from him, reaching over her shoulders. He too ran his hands over her, holding her neck while he kissed and nibbled her ear. He wandered down her front, relishing the feel of her. His hands and fingers ached to be closer, so as he nibbled and kissed, he slowly began to unbutton her uniform shirt.

By the time the shirt was opened and off, she'd managed to remove his as well. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she straddled his powerful legs, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into another fiery kiss.

He ran his hands from her thighs up to the small of her back, digging his fingertips into her bare skin and making her arch and wriggle on him. He didn't bother with her bra, and simply pulled it over her head. He leaned back so he could admire her, taking her in, locking that sight into his memory.

"You are glorious, Margaret," he said, admiration in his voice as he gazed at her.

She smiled and leaned back into him, pushing him down the rest of the way onto the bed and the stacked up pillows. She wriggled herself against him. "I could say the same for you, Major Winchester!"

He grasped her thighs and pulled her up so she was resting on her knees. He started kissing and nibbling on her bare skin, at the tender junction of throat and chest, exploring with his tongue, tasting and teasing her, moving further down her body as he pulled her up higher with his strong hands. He wanted to know every luscious curve of her, and held her by the thighs as he delved deeper, deeper.

Margaret lost herself to the sensation of Charles' mouth and hands. She couldn't believe it when he'd lifted her so easily. She hadn't realized how strong he was! His big hands, so sensitive and nimble, his long fingers, held her tightly around the upper thighs. As his tongue and lips worked their magic on her breasts, his fingers slowly migrated upwards, pressing against her firm flesh. She wriggled against him, the excitement building.

She gasped when he bit down on her, and arched back. Her response enflamed him, and he pulled her painfully against his lips and teeth, teasing with his tongue, making her writhe even more.

"CHARLES!" she screamed, dropping down and pushing him back at the same time. She grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, wanting to sink into him and lose herself, to fall into those wonderful glowing eyes and be his forever.

Margaret was poised over him as he slipped his hands down her sides, finding the waistline of her uniform pants. As she kissed his mouth, along his jaw to his ear and down his neck, he loosened first the belt, then the pants and slid them off her, running his hands down her now-bared hips and thighs. She relinquished him of his clothes as well, and soon they were on the covers of her bed. Margaret returned to straddling his hips, keeping most of her weight on her legs, so as not to press on his healed abdomen.

"This isn't bothering you, Charles?"

"It depends, define 'bothering'." He smiled up at her as she looked down, laughing.

"In this case, I meant the liver injury."

"Oh, then in that case, no."

Margaret remained on her knees mostly, but leaned forward, letting her hands rub up and down his abdomen and chest then back again. He enjoyed watching the fluid motion, back and forth. She's so graceful, he thought, enjoying the play of light and shadow on her ample curves as she massaged him. He ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, massaging as well, thrilling at such a simple touch.

In the next motion forward, she lay down on him and began kissing and nibbling, rubbing his sides, and moving toward his navel.

Oh my God, he thought. Is she...?

She wasn't...quite...going as far as Charles thought (and maybe feared?) she was. He had ambivalent feelings about such play; he'd heard about it of course, but had never experienced it. He knew there were other things he'd never done, or had done to him. Perhaps at some point he and Margaret could explore such new avenues, but for now, he was enthralled by her lips and tongue as she continued kissing down him. As she passed his navel, she abruptly sat up straight, a wicked grin on her face.

She scooched back, rubbing against him, teasing him. He put his big hands on her full hips, moving her back and forth. She refused to let him push her DOWN though, her legs being stronger than his arms. She squeezed his forearms, feeling the muscles in them working back and forth as he gripped her hips.

She flexed at the waist to his waiting mouth and kissed him deeply, as she continued to tease him with her grinding hips. She found again that delicate spot under his ear and began licking and nipping and nibbling at him, sighing every so often against his skin.

Within seconds, she felt him tense all over, his hands holding her almost painfully. She could feel in his arms that he was aching to push her down onto him, but she still refused to allow him.

"Margaret," he rasped, eyes closed, ecstasy lighting his face.

"Charles..." she paused, kissing and nibbling on his lip, teasing him. "Charles, I love you!"

"And I love..." Charles moaned loudly as Margaret slammed herself down on him, sinking entirely down until she couldn't sink any further. "YOU!" he screamed, as he forced himself upward to meet her, the two finding the steady rhythm quickly and easily.

He was semi-reclining on the stacked pillows. She was sitting back on him, bracing herself on his strong forearms. He watched her as she moved up and down his length, his hands moving with her. Her hair was aglow, the lamps behind her illuminating her once again, platinum waves swaying with the motion as they lost themselves in one another. He held on to her sides, moving his hands up and down to her arms and back, enjoying her swaying breasts as he held her ribs.

Margaret leaned forward, running her hands up his arms until she found his broad shoulders. She dug her fingers in, gripping hard, as she moved up and down, harder and faster, at a different angle, rubbing herself more and more against him. He knew what she was doing and reached behind her to increase the angle himself, bracing against her, his speed increasing as well as the build-up of tension in his groin and gut, and somewhere in the back of his mind, reveling that it did not hurt in the least.

He looked into her face, her eyes closed, head back as she anticipated the coming climax. She was breathing hard, lips parted. Her mouth was so inviting that he could no longer resist and pulled her hungrily to him, kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her. She moaned as the motion increased, grinding and moving her hips faster and faster, feeling him move with such abandon.

She had to pull away from his sweet mouth as she neared completion, panting and gasping. She soon screamed out as she reached her peak. He reacted by thrusting even harder, pushing up into her while she simultaneously slammed down onto him, over and over. He could no longer hold the tension and he found his own release, pushing into her a few final times before they both relaxed, going completely limp against one another, almost sobbing with physical and emotional relief.

They took a few moments to catch their breaths, alternately gasping and laughing in joy. Charles wrapped his arms around her as she'd collapsed onto his chest. He stroked her hair, damp from their love-making, a sheen of sweat covering them both on this warm late-Spring evening. She still held him captive inside her, neither being ready to sever that glorious contact.

He whispered in her ear, overwhelmed by the love he felt for her, "Margaret, you are the most amazingly beautiful and brilliant woman I have ever known!" He kissed her as he spoke. "That...was...incredible, my love!"

She sighed into his chest, "I love you so much, Charles, I can't say that enough! It's like all this has been building for months, and we're finally here. I could never have dreamed, my darling!"

He kissed the top of her damp head, "I love you too, my sweet, I love you too."

And so they fell asleep, entwined as one, smiles lighting their dreams.

Fin (for now).

(In this story, it's late-Spring, 1953, meaning the Korean Conflict will be over in less than two months, 27 JUL 1953. I will be doing my own After-the-Credits of "Goodbye, Farewell, Amen." I'm not sure if there'll be another C&M story in between this one and the series finale. I've got three WIPs that really need to be finished before I start another CEWIII story. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this very special night between Charles and Margaret. Reviews are always welcomed!)


End file.
